


The Best Laid Plans

by TheHatterTheory



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe, And yet, BDSM, Body Modification, Bondage, Cheating, Cuckolding, F/F, F/M, Gen, Infidelity, Kink, Lemon, M/M, Moresomes, Multi, Other, Piercings, Romance, Smut, Threesome, Under-negotiated Kink, a primer on what not to do, oh my god like all the unhealthy and bad ideas, theres really no salvaging this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHatterTheory/pseuds/TheHatterTheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her boyfriend makes a demand, Kagome pretends to cave. However, she learns that sometimes plans backfire. The consequences will make her question everything she knew about herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction To Kink: An Informative List

_**If, by some strange, screwy twist of fate, you're under 18 and find yourself reading this, click the back button NOW.** _

_**Also, this is my X-Mas present for all of those kinky readers. I'll be posting the next few chapters over the next couple of days as a gift. Merry X-Mas!** _

(avoiding xxx-mas puns like the plague)

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter One: Intro To Kink: An Informative List**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha and Co, and the list read from is found on Fetlife. I'm assuming that since there aren't any minors reading this, it's safe to say that.

 **Warning:** Lo, on the horizon there is bondage and domination, rope play and cuckolding, swinging, random fetishes and flamingly gay men (although no gay sex that I've been able to incorporate...yet). Girl sex, solosex, toy sex, mutual masturbation, pink haired piercing artists and maid outfits (not on Kagome). I haven't finished this, so I have no idea what else will be added in. 

___________________________

She tried to look down at the little white card, the strange little identifier for the company. Her boyfriend stood next to her as she looked all over the table, at the walls, anywhere but at the little white card with it's distinctive black writing.

“I need to do something before we get engaged,” He told her. It wasn't a question, or even a plea. Just a frustrated declaration.

“Why?” She asked, not for the first time.

“Because I'm still young. I know we've been together since college, that's part of it. I need to experience something different before getting engaged. It wouldn't be right after that,” He groaned, pacing around her, then into the kitchen. She watched him open the fridge and pull out a beer, then open it effortlessly with his arm and take a long swig.

Wasn't it wrong to demand sex with someone else before agreeing to an engagement, an engagement he'd brought up no less? How could doing it before getting engaged be any more correct? How could it be right?

“Look, I need this, Kagome,” He sighed, leaning against the fridge. “Just this one time. It's completely safe, completely discreet. No one will ever know.”

“What if you catch something?” She demanded.

“Everyone is screened before they come through,” He informed her smartly. “This is a top of the line service. Everyone has up to date tests, everyone is matched according to fantasy. No names, no numbers, just two people experiencing whatever.”

And why couldn't he experience 'whatever' with her?

“Please, I need this, and then after it's smooth sailing,” He promised, his voice soothing. But it wasn't working this time. After dealing with his little infatuations over the past few years, she'd become hardened to that voice.

“On one condition.”

He'd never agree, he was by far too possessive.

“What, Kagome? What do you want?”

He looked so hopeful, it made her even more angry. It made her want to hurt him.

“I get to do it too.”

His eyes hardened, the intense burnished gold becoming a cold copper. He was not pleased with her demand, and she only barely managed to keep her smirk mental, her lips fighting to stay in their frown.

“Why?”

“What's good for the goose is good for the gander,” She quipped smartly, standing and walking away from her little kitchen table, one that had seen countless dinners between them. She was almost to her couch when she stopped, his words sending a chill running down her spine.

“Fine, not like you'll go through with it,” He muttered.

He strode past her, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of her couch without even looking at her. The door to her apartment slammed behind him, leaving her alone.

She sunk to the couch, head cradled in her hands.

“He was supposed to say no,” She groaned, all of her anger at him abruptly turning on her.

___________________________

 

She stared at the computer screen, feeling something between mortified and ashamed as she stared at the checklist. Her test results had gone to the small company, and they'd emailed her to tell her that she had been approved. The next step was to log in with her new anonymous screen name and password, and she could create a fantasy profile of sorts to be matched against others.

The list of kinks and fetishes was endless. From the beginning with abduction (she really hoped that didn't mean what she thought it did) to zentai (which she had no idea about) all of them were more bewildering than the last. There was little she would consider 'normal'.

Is that what her boyfriend had wanted, something strange? What if he was into abduction, or the more frighteningly named asphyxiphilia? What is if was something else even more ominous sounding?

“I don't even know what most of these mean,” She groaned, leaning back in her computer chair, her hands covering her flaming face. How was she supposed to go through with it when she didn't even know what to choose, when she couldn't even look at the damnable list without blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Okay Kagome, you've been to college. You've have your fair share of fun,” She told herself, although she knew it was a lie. Most girls had experimented with either each other or other guys, or both. She'd stayed a virgin until meeting Inu Yasha. One awkward drunk girl kiss with her best friend did not count as experimenting.

“What I wouldn't give to be-” She stopped, her thoughts trailing to her most perverted friend.

Biting a nail, she looked to her cell phone, sitting innocently next to the computer. Shrugging her shoulders, she picked the phone up and scrolled down the list, finding his within moments. Breathless, she hit the call button and held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer.

“Kagome, hello!” His cheerful voice greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you busy?” She asked.

“Never too busy for my best gal,” He replied in an overly bright tone, making her hope he was alone.

“What do you know about fetishes?” She asked bluntly. Loud cursing, the screeching of tires and three different car horns answered her.

“Fetishes? Kagome, may I ask-”

“Inu Yasha and I are- spicing up our sex life, and I'm looking at this list, but I have no idea what it means,” She said, flinching at the half lie. She was trying to save her relationship, hopefully the gods would forgive her the one.

“Well, start going down the list,” He offered, voice cracking, as if he was trying to hold in laughter. Feeling like a child in the face of a parent's all knowing wisdom, she reminded herself that Miroku's level of perversity and curiosity were not normal, and it was only Sango's temper that kept him in check.

“Abduction?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, kidnap, possibly rape play-”

“Nevermind,” She muttered, immediately going to the next. She couldn't even say the next several aloud.

 _'Anal, anal beads, anal stretching?'_ She thought incredulously. There was no way she could ask about those sorts of things.

“Androgyny?”

“You'd never fit the bill, you look too feminine,” He chuckled.

Well there went that, not that she wasn't grateful.

“Anonymous encounters?”

“That's normally between two people who have never met, and never will again. They don't know each other, they don't trade names, that sort of thing. You and Inu Yasha could role play it, I suppose,” He offered helpfully.

She did not want to know what artistic cutting, ass play, or ass worship were all about.

“Auralism?”

“Being turned on by sounds of certain types, even if it's the sound of sex itself.”

Not her thing. Inu Yasha's grunts and groans were not sexy in the least. And she couldn't think of anything else sound wise that really turned her on. Maybe it was just for some people.

 _'Like ass worship,'_ She thought sourly.

The list went on, in alphabetical order, until they got to C, because she couldn't take any more of the humiliation. Her own ignorance burned, and having to ask her friend about it only made the experience worse.

“Thanks Miroku,” She sighed. A gusty breath exhaled came from his end of the line, crackling slightly in the phone.

“You know Kagome, if he's pushing you into an area you're not comfortable with-”

“It's not pushing,” She lied. Because that's exactly what it was, just not how the ultra perverted lawyer thought. “We're exploring.”

“Well, just remember to be safe and say no if it's something you're not okay with. Some people are different than others. It's okay to not be into something.”

“I know,” She assured him, glad he couldn't see her fiddling with her hair. It was her little gesture that gave away lies, and right now she could not let her friends know that her boyfriend was forcing her into...whatever it was.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Give Sango a hug for me.”

“I will.”

The phone went silent, and she closed it, looking back to the list.

Anonymous encounters, because she never wanted to see the person again. Blindfolds, because she was positive she didn't want to see their face. Caressing, because she wanted someone nice, especially after reading some of the other options. She was checking everything else off as automatic no's, when she hovered over 'cunnilingus'.

Inu Yasha hated doing it, and the few times he had had been lackluster. But she'd always imagined...

“You know what, if I'm going to do it, I might as well enjoy it,” She muttered, clicking on the 'yes' box before scrolling through with more no's.

After submitting her profile, only a dozen matches came up, making her wonder how perverse people really were.

Deciding to grab a glass of wine, she looked at the bottle on the counter, then at the glass next to it, and shrugged angrily. Grabbing the bottle by the neck, she plopped down into her comfy computer chair and looked at the profiles that matched her own.

The first one was a woman, immediately striking it from her list. The next was a man in his sixties, a definite no.

No. No. No, no and no. For each no, she took another swig of the red wine, ignoring the guilt at drinking an eighty dollar bottle of wine like it was soda.

The ninth profile was a possibility. He had other curiosities, other kinks, but they were not musts. After checking the last few and finding them to be unsuitable in their wants, she came back to his and considered the checked boxes.

Dominant, which wouldn't be awful, she reasoned, because he wasn't into a lot of the frightening things on the list. In fact, most of the boxes had not been checked, which she found strange. Maybe he hadn't gone through them all, or something. But someone would have to initiate the whole thing, and it certainly wasn't going to be her.

Another deep pull from the wine bottle and she leaned back, blue eyes glittering as they took in the information on the monitor.

Dominant. Blindfolds were checked. Auralism too, which she found strange. What kind of sounds would turn someone on? Anal was checked, but maybe they could work around it. More importantly, that one little box, the one her eyes had been avoiding, was checked with yes.

Cunnilingus.

Another swig of wine, and she tipped the bottle back.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” She gasped after pulling the bottle from her mouth, inhaling deeply around the smokey sharpness of the red wine.

She clicked the little button that signaled her interest.

There was no undoing it, even though -for a panicked moment- she looked for one.

A sort of giddy fear came then, mixing strangely with the alcohol already warming her.

She'd done it. Inu Yasha had been reluctant, but had let her only because he wanted his own little fantasy so badly. She'd done something that would make him angry. Hell, he might even back out when she told him she'd found a profile that interested her, that she'd contacted someone, however indirectly.

Then nervousness set in. She'd openly and very willingly done something Inu Yasha had obviously not wanted her to do.

But, the small voice in her head argued, the demon on her left shoulder whispering angrily, hadn't he been doing the same thing. She'd resisted his demands for a visit to the little company's building ever since he'd brought it up. Until the engagement talk.

Which, that voice continued, was blackmail. Two wrongs may not make a right, but they could circumvent a much bigger wrong.

Maybe the man would see her profile and she wouldn't be what he was looking for. Maybe she was too restrained, too vanilla.

A ding sounded. Confused and slightly disoriented from the wine, she looked at her screen. A little red sign had popped up in the top corner of the browser.

“Mail?”

Maybe somebody had seen her profile and was curious. Clicking on it, she prayed it wasn't a woman, or the geriatric sex fiend.

It wasn't. It was in fact, the man she'd just been thinking about.

“I am interested as well,” She breathed, eyes widening as she looked at the simple statement. “When would you like to schedule a meeting?”

“I'm not sure,” She said aloud as she tried to type. The keys were becoming increasingly unmanageable, resisting her attempts to keep them in place. The send button was thankfully still, although her mouse danced on the screen, making her shake it twice before settling down.

Two seconds later, another response.

_'You seem very new.'_

“I am,” She muttered. Drunkenly she admitted to part of the situation, saying only that she and her husband were both looking at fantasies, and had agreed to go. Which was only partially a lie.

_'Is he there with you now?'_

“No,” She groaned aloud, typing the word and sending it while taking another swig from her wine bottle. Speaking to the person on the profile was surreal. She hadn't even expected it to go that far. Inu Yasha was supposed to find out and freak.

The little devil on her shoulder snickered, and pointed out only that if she had actual conversation logs with this mysterious stranger, Inu Yasha would understand all the more that she would go through with it, and put an end to the whole thing.

_'What most do you want from an encounter?'_

She flushed hotly. How was she supposed to admit to that? And to someone she didn't know?

Then again, she didn't know him, and if her plan followed her logic, she never would. Inu Yasha was notoriously possessive. He would never let her go through with it.

_'Cunnilingus, and the blindfold.'_

She couldn't even say the words aloud as she typed them, although they were burning her tongue. Another swig from the bottle, and it was empty.

A little ding. He'd replied.

_'Find something to blindfold yourself with, a scarf or a tie. Lay down, imagine your fantasy. If you do, I will agree to fulfill it. Goodnight.'_

She didn't even bother to message him back, because the suggestion was just...just...

Tempting.

Which was not the word that should have come to mind. It should be preposterous, because it wasn't even a fantasy. It was just some stupid plan, and she was actually considering doing what a complete and utter stranger was telling her to do. Which was beyond crazy.

But tempting.

She exited out of her browser and stood abruptly, needing to get away from it. Needing to get away from the-whatever it was.

Listing, she stumbled down the hall and to her bedroom, immediately throwing herself on the bed.

Inu Yasha would stop it before it could happen. Of course he would. There was no point in trying.

Except that there kind of was. Even if -when, she muttered aloud, a reprimand for where her thoughts unconsciously went- Inu Yasha stopped it, there was no reason she couldn't fantasize a little. After all, Inu Yasha had obviously been doing it, and it wasn't as if she was fantasizing about someone else. She could even fantasize about her boyfriend. No harm, no foul. It would be just that, fantasizing.

Drunkenly she propped herself up and stared at her vanity. Several of her scarves lay on the lightly stained oak, an innocent pile all the more strange to her because of it's lightness. Pinks, blues, greens and purples. Not a black one among them. Not a one that would suit her purpose.

“Who is there to see?” She demanded of no one in particular, crawling across her bed and reaching to her vanity. Her fingers lit on a dark green one, and immediately she grabbed it, pulling away from the vanity and relaxing back onto the bed. The green silk scarf fluttered as she waved her arm back and forth.

It couldn't hurt, right?

Nervously, she tied the scarf over her eyes, knotting it behind her hair. When she finished, she let her arms fall at her sides and stared at the dark green over her eyes. After several minutes she felt silly, almost childish.

It occurred to her that she'd never fantasized intentionally before, and she had no idea got to go about it.

“Close your eyes,” She commanded herself, forcing them to close. Darkness took over.

She was on her bed, but there was something lacking. Impatiently she pulled her pants off, then shrugged her shirt over her head. He wouldn't be able to do anything to her in her unsexy pajamas, would he?

The comforter was infinitely soft beneath her back, letting her relax into it's folds.

His hands would be rough, and move over her belly, she reasoned. They'd start at her stomach, and they'd be warm. Her hands smoothed over the expanse of exposed flesh, and she ignored their smallness, their smoothness, imagining large, callused hands. They'd move up her sides, following the dips and swells of her curves.

His lips would be warm on her chin first, her nose, then her lips.

She could feel his warm weight hovering over her, his knees on either side of her legs as she let her hands wander lightly over her breasts. His hands were so warm, so strong as they traced the lines of her lacy blue bra. Soft lips kissed down her neck, finding that spot, the one that sent shivers through her as she tilted her head back for more. A sinfully hot tongue darted out, teased the spot with a pointed tip.

She groaned, hips twitching as his mouth traveled lower. Her bra came down, and hands were palming them, rolling the sensitive nipples between strong fingers. Her blood moved sluggishly through her body, warm and pulsing. In the darkness of the blindfold, her lover was a blank figure, a myserious stranger, anyone, as he continued kissing down her body, hands leaving her breasts to remove her panties. Nails skittered over her hips, and her legs spread wider, hips tilting up to offer herself.

“Please,” she panted, hands moving to the slick wetness between her thighs.

His tongue was so much hotter as it moved up and down her slit, parted the hot folds, circled her clit in ever tightening circles. He nipped lightly and sucked it into his mouth, tongue lashing at it mercilessly.

Given no other choice, she came, screaming her release as wetness seeped over her fingertips.

For several minutes, she lay there, dazed and drunk on both wine and her orgasm, the two mixing so well she couldn't help but smile, eyes still closed. His weight was still there, still warm between her legs. So real was the warmth, that she faded into it, let it cover her and blanket her as she drifted off to sleep.

___________________________

When she woke, she had a small, buzzing headache and something strange obstructing her eyes. Groaning, she pulled the scarf from over her head and leaned forward, immediately wondering how she had gotten to bed the night before.

Her hand was in her panties, and she was wearing a scarf as a blindfold.

Her breath reeked.

“Oh kami,” She groaned, falling onto the bed with a thump and regretting the action immediately, the vibrations jostling unpleasantly in her head.

The only blessing was that Inu Yasha had not come in and found her like this. At least she hoped he hadn't. Sitting up again, she threw the scarf to the side, not caring where it landed, and stood, feeling the slightest bit dizzy as she did. Ignoring the fact that she'd left the light on all night, she turned it off behind her as she stumbled into the hall, still in nothing but her panties and bra, which she straightened as she walked.

Her monitor was still on, although the browser was thankfully off. And no Inu Yasha in sight.

As she sat down, she checked her phone. No new messages, no missed calls. So he hadn't come by, he usually called to let her know.

Almost reluctantly she opened up her browser and typed in the name of the website. After logging in, she saw the bright red notification. Messages. Or message, as the case turned out to be.

From her...whatever it was.

_'I am curious, did you do as I asked?'_

Oh, how to answer that. The logic of the night before had been so much simpler, so much...drunker.

“It's not like he's ever going to meet you, Kagome,” She admonished. “Besides, you if Inu Yasha actually wants to look at these, you just tell him it was about him.”

Even though it hadn't been, which was the problem. Or one of them anyway. The other one was that she was writing to a stranger, basically admitting to-to _masturbating_!

“I'll tell him I lied to the guy,” She muttered. After all, one white lie to save her relationship wouldn't be so bad. It was only masturbation. Lots of women thought about other guys when they masturbated, and she hadn't even pictured anyone. It could have been her boyfriend.

Except Inu Yasha didn't take his time with her like that, didn't kiss and lick the spots that made her shudder or her toes curl at the very memory.

 _'Yes,'_ She typed determinedly, hands clattering heavily on the three keys. Clicking the send button before she could back out, she stared at the screen.

There was a finality in the admission. Either way, there was no going back on her plan. If Inu Yasha saw it, he'd stop it.

He had to.

___________________________

I firmly hold that this is all R0o's fault, because of the first GM challenge I entered. Smut has been having it's wicked way with my brain. As for Kagome's discomfort with the list, if I offended anyone, I'm sorry, none was meant. But I loaned a friend a copy of a book with such a list in it when she expressed interest in kink, and her reaction was very similar, and I was essentially the Miroku. This was going to be an ABC sort of exploration of the kinkier side of sex, but it changed while I was writing it, however...So much smut to come (that pun was not intentional, as it would be awful). Anywho. Just review and let me know what you think.


	2. In Blindness I See Clearly

**Don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time. - Unknown**

 

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Two: In Blindness I See Clearly**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:** Lemon Drops

**Happy X-mas Eve to those that celebrate, and to those that don't, enjoy some eggnog anyway.**

Inu Yasha was glaring at her.

Which was good, right? He would call it all off, any second now.

“Fine,” He ground out, eyes still narrowed in angry slits. “Just. Fine.”

Her boyfriend nodded once, and not even bothering to hug her or say goodbye, he left, leaving her sitting at her kitchen table, staring at the door that had slammed behind him. In fact his only words were more infuriating than his abrupt departure.

“You'll never go through with it.”

“You were supposed to say no,” She said to her no longer present boyfriend.

But he hadn't. In fact, even though it made him angry, he was so desperate for his own fantasy, something he couldn't share with her, whatever it was, that he'd let her do it. Which didn't make any sense. Why couldn't he just tell her? Endless prodding and questioning had gotten her nowhere.

“Argh, screw all of this,” She muttered, glad that there was no one around to witness her rare use of cursing. Stomping over to her computer, she pulled up the browser and logged into the somewhat loathed site. A little red icon notified her that she had mail. One message was from the geriatric would be lover that she desperately wanted to avoid, and another from the man she wanted to avoid just a little bit more.

Ignoring the sixty year old man's message, she clicked on the one from her anonymous not quite lover, and read the succinct message.

_'Very well. I am free most evenings this week, excluding Thursday.'_

She had all morning shifts at the hospital.

Inu Yasha's tantrum had her angry, made her thoughts war angrily in her head. Anger clashed with self doubt. Was something wrong with her, was she unexciting? Was that why he was searching for this one last fling before getting engaged? Was she the nice girl?

Yes. She was the nice girl. The girl a boy brought home to his mother. The woman a man married and had children with. Not the woman that a man fantasized about.

Well, she would change that. Even if it meant making him angry now, then at least he'd realize she could walk on the wild side. Maybe he'd realize she could be just as much fun as any other woman, that he could tell her his fantasies. Besides, if she gave him time to back out before she went through with it, he probably would, now that he knew she had actually contacted someone.

_'I'm free Friday evening. How does eight sound?'_

She waited nervously at her computer for over half an hour before there was a response. In that half hour, it occurred to her that she wasn't alone in her plan, and that she was messing with someone. But surely there were people that backed out all of the time? Maybe it was normal. And she repeated to herself again and again that she didn't know the man, would never see or meet him. And if she did. She would never know it.

'I have made our arrangements with the company. You will receive a notification shortly for your agreement. Until then.'

True to his word, within minutes, a message popped up, asking if the details were correct. She barely saw them as she clicked yes.

Seconds later, another message dinged, and she opened it. It was a set of rather strange directions. After reading through the list, from where to park and what car to wait for, she supposed it was for anonymity. Inu Yasha had told her they were discreet, she just hadn't guessed how discreet. Each rule in place was made to keep her identity and destination a secret.

“It won't go that far,” She assured herself.

__________________________________________

By Friday she was a groaning, almost dead mess of tension and soreness. Her work as a surgeon had her wanting to pull her hair out, and she barely remembered her 'date', mainly because her boyfriend hadn't called her to tell her the whole thing was off, and that he was backing out. In fact, he'd barely called at all, not that she had noticed. One surgeon was at a conference, and another had discovered late in life that his calling was not surgery, but 'Tibet', whatever that meant.

When she finally looked at her phone, it was six in the evening, and there was a text message notification blinking rapidly. She flipped the phone open and opened it, staring but not seeing for several minutes.

_'Your car will be ready to meet you at seven thirty, please do not forget.'_

Groaning, she fell back against the locker, head banging against the metal solidly.

“What's wrong Kags? Sango asked as she came in.

“Nothing, just something I forgot about. I need to get going, or I'll be late.”

“Hot date?” The other surgeon teased as she changed out of her scrubs. She followed suit, not deigning to answer it.

“Hope not, those are plain, plain, plain.”

“What are?” She asked, panicked.

“Those panties, and that bra,” Sango murmured.

She looked down. Plain black cotton panties, and a gray bra. Matching hadn't even occurred to her that morning. She looked like a college student again, especially with her spectacularly small chest.

“I'll deal,” She muttered as she yanked on her jeans and pulled a plain white shirt over her head. Running a brush through her hair, she tried to bind it up in it's normal pony tail, but her hands were shaking too much.

“Kagome, you alright?” Sango asked, taking the brush and band from her. Grateful her friend couldn't see her face, she nodded as her hair was pulled into a tight tail.

“Miroku mentioned you and Inu Yasha were trying some new stuff. I know he shouldn't have, but, well, speaking from the perspective of someone that's engaged to a pervert, it's not bad. Everyone has a bit of the wild side in them. Just relax and have fun tonight, okay?”

Oh, if only Sango knew the predicament, not that she could tell her. The truth was just too mortifying. Instead, she nodded again and forced her lips into a bright smile.

“Go get 'im,” Sango urged, going back to her own locker without a second glance.

She fled, there was no other word for it. When she got to her car, she looked back down at her phone, panicking.

She could back out. She could call it off.

But Inu Yasha wouldn't, hadn't. If anything, her boyfriend's parting words still stung her pride, goaded her. A challenge.

“Everyone has a bit of the wild side, right?”

She drove. At every red light her fingers drummed the wheel nervously, and her brakes jerked uncertainly with every stop, her foot hitting the gas too hard with every go. The hour it took to arrive to the parking garage was nerve wracking torture in more than one way. Every sound was too loud, every set of headlights too bright in the dimming fall sky.

Glancing at her phone, she saw she had ten minutes until the car was supposed to pick her up. Ten minutes to back out, to leave and delete the profile and beg Inu Yasha to reconsider everything.

The conversations whirled in her head. Each of them was a repeat of the one they'd had for over a month. She would beg, he would snap, she would shout, he would bellow. In the end, he would tell her he needed it, and that she was being selfish for trying to deny it to him.

Was she? If he wanted it that badly, and it was just once?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned back in her seat. Even if their cyclical arguments didn't end with him calling her selfish, she would have thought of it sooner or later. He wanted it so badly, whatever it was. She just wished she knew, that he wouldn't hide it from her. What could be so bad? If he was even willing to tolerate her sleeping with another man, no matter his displeasure, it must be important to him.

A knock sounded on her window, startling her fro her reverie. She looked up and saw a very well dressed chauffeur, neat from the driving suit to the cap on his head. Everything about him was impeccably tailored.

“Miss?” He asked, voice muffled through the glass.

Now or never.

Deep inhale. Slow exhale.

Now.

She got out and nodded, allowing him to help her into the black suv. The windows were tinted to such a degree that she could barely see outside, so she felt safe within it's confines, anonymous. The driver was silent.

The drive was a hell of uncertainty, every minute that went by summoning more and more tension in her body, straining already tight muscles. By the time the car pulled into a small building's built in garage, she was beyond a wreck. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“First time?” The driver asked as she stared at her doorhandle.

“That obvious?” She croaked, hating the sound of her voice even as she spoke.

“Don't be nervous, discretion is our first service, fantasies the second.”

That was not the problem. She shouldn't need discretion, because she shouldn't be there. But the driver's expectant stare made her need to get out of the car. When she stumbled out, she inhaled deeply, feeling like she could breath. For all of two seconds. Because within those two seconds, a woman that looked remarkably like a secretary came out, dark brown eyes twinkling mischieviously.

“Welcome, Miss. Please follow me this way.”

Given no other option, she followed. The hallway was lit with dim yellow lights, and she supposed the effect was supposed to be soft, although it came out more hazy than anything else as she was led to an elevator. It was key operated, with only one button. The secretary, guide, whoever she was, inserted a key and pressed a button. The elevator opened, and she was guided inside.

Two floors later, the woman gestured for her to step out.

“All of the accessories you asked for will be there. Your companion will be along in fifteen minutes.”

She stepped out with wooden legs, feeling like her feet had been replaced with cement blocks. The doors closed behind her silently, well oiled springs and cogs barely whispering as it began it's descent.

“No back out,” She told herself as she stepped forward. There was a door, one that taunted her by opening easily, no lock in evidence.

“Oh,” She breathed, taking in the sumptuousness of the room. It wasn't what she had expected at all. The bed itself was covered in soft white covers that looked plush enough to sink into until she disappeared, and the white gauze curtains around it made it look like something off of a romance novel cover.

Beside the bed there was a table. On it was a small platter filled with fruits, and a bottle of white wine sat chilling in a bucket. Next to those items was the first item of her 'fantasy'.

A white silk scarf, wide and three, perhaps four feet long. Not black, not green. Not lurid. Not at all what she had imagined.

It was happening. It was all really happening.

Cautiously, as if the entire image would vanish, she tip toed over to the table. Her fingers picked up the long swath of fabric, delighting in the feel of it. It was easily more well made than anything she owned, and she could only imagine the cost as it slipped and slid through her fingers like cool water.

Experimentally, she tied it around her hair, below her ponytail. White obscured her vision, and she couldn't even see outlines anymore.

Giggling, giddy nervousness set in. She was there. She was wearing the blindfold.

It could not have been fifteen minutes since she had stepped into the room, it couldn't have been, but the door opened mid giggle, making her stop abruptly.

“I'm pleased that you find it suitable,” A deep voice rumbled.

Suddenly, she totally understood the concept of auralism. His voice was nothing less than a growling purr, if that was even possible, and it made her think of velvet and warm things.

“H-hello,” She mumbled, the giddiness gone, replaced with shy anxiety.

“Hello,” He greeted. Disconcerted by the sudden difference of where his voice came from, she turned, disoriented. The first spikes of fear stabbed at her belly.

Names were a no no. But what did that leave? And where was he? Was he looking at her, judging her? Was she pretty, or was she ugly to him? Was she what he had expected, wanted?

“Do not be afraid,” He told her, voice lowering into a soothing purr as large hands took her own.

Big, warm hands. Rough hands, just like her fantasy. But bigger. Rougher. More.

“I'm scared,” She admitted.

“We'll start slow,” He promised. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Y-yes, that would be nice.”

Anything to get her through this.

For the first time she could remember, she was guided confidently into a chair, completely blind to everything around her. His hands were all the more pronounced for her blindness, the feel of every ridge and bump of every finger defined as his thumbs rubbed circles on her palms.

“I'm going to pour a glass for you now,” He told her. She nodded mutely, and heard the cork twisted and pulled out. The sound of liquid rushing into a glass seemed to echo through the room, and she closed her eyes, needing the assurance the darkness gave her.

“Here,” He said, bringing one of her hands to a glass. She accepted gratefully and took a healthy swallow, forcing herself to choke down the cough that wanted to come down at the unexpected dryness.

There was rustling around, and she almost jumped from her skin when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“Relax,” He commanded in a gentle baritone. “Just enjoy.”

Large, surprisingly gentle hands began soothing out a week's worth of tension as she drank the glass in silence. When he pushed her slightly forward to go lower, she couldn't help but groan in appreciation.

“That's amazing,” She finally moaned.

“What is it you do?”

“Pediatric surgeon,” She sighed, leaning even further.

“That explains it,” He sighed, although it was almost amused. “Do you feel well enough to lay on the bed?”

If he continued doing that, she was pretty sure she'd melt into a puddle of goo. Nodding once, she allowed him to take her wineglass and set it on the table. One hand was on the small of her back as he guided her to the bed, and when she felt her knees against it, she stopped.

“Do you feel comfortable removing your shirt?”

Gulping, she nodded.

He helped her shrug the shirt off over her head, all the while making sure the blindfold never left her eyes. Once finished, he tightened it, and she felt a surge of self consciousness. Her gray bra must seem utterly plain to him, completely uninspired.

“I came straight from work,” She tried to explain, choking on the words, feeling not only utterly not sexy, but almost silly, childish.

“Shh,” He commanded gently, making her eyes water behind the blindfold as he lay her down. The whole thing was going much differently than she had expected, he was different than she had expected. He felt caring. It felt-Intimate.

“You have a hard job. Surgeons are always required to give more.”

She nodded, face down in the silky soft blankets covering the bed, turning it into a giant pillow. His knees straddled either side of her body, his weight shifting the bed slightly. She blushed at the solid warmth around her, shuddered when his hands smoothed up and down her back lightly.

Soon they began massaging the tension out, and she couldn't help but melt beneath the skillful fingers kneading her flesh. She'd never considered going to a masseuse before, but she promised herself she would find one in the future. In minutes she was groaning appreciatively, half asleep from the ease and warmth and softness all around her. Not even aware of the blindfold anymore, she began drifting, feeling like she was floating on a warm, puffy cloud.

“Turn over,” He commanded in a smooth, low voice. Not even thinking about her lack of clothing she did, allowing his hands to trace up her sides.

“You are beautiful,” He whispered, voice so quiet she barely heard it. Flushing slightly, she opened her eyes, saw the expanse of white covering them, and forced them closed again.

_'I can do this.'_

He was making it so easy, so frighteningly easy to just lay there as he kneaded her stomach, ran his palms over the flat, soft plain of skin. Unexpectedly she giggled, his light fingers on her sides tickling.

His deep chuckle answered, making her shiver. It was so unlike anything she'd ever heard, so warm and smooth that she couldn't help but think of the trashy novels she'd read as a teenager. The descriptions were making sense, and she allowed herself to smile.

When her button came undone, and then her zipper, she tensed, but he continued to pull her pants down, exposing her shamefully plain underwear, and legs prickly with three day stubble. She hadn't even thought about shaving, hadn't had the time. Would he still find her attractive? Inu Yasha hated when she forgot to shave. Her breath hitched as his hands began on her foot, and she wondered if her pedicure had faded. When was the last time she had painted her toenails? Would the polish have rubbed off, would it be chipped?

Would he think she was a slob, that she didn't take care of herself? For some inexplicable reason, she didn't want him to, didn't want to disappoint him.

“Relax,” He commanded.

More than her back, her feet needed the hands wrapping around them, massaging away the aches and pains that came with hours of standing. From her littlest toe to the high arch, he covered every spot, moving up to her ankle and then her calf, which forced a moan from her throat.

“You're really good at this,” She sighed as he moved up her thigh, relaxing away a week's worth of work.

“I'm glad to help you,” He assured her before stopping short of her upper thigh. “Would you like another glass of wine?”

“I feel like a queen,” She murmured, nodding as she did. He chuckled again, the sound making her shiver, and warmth pooled in her belly. Suddenly she wished she didn't have the blindfold. Surely the owner of such a voice had to be tall, dark and handsome. A model, a sculpture come to life, a man straight out of the stories.

The wine glass was brought to her lips, tipped only slightly, allowing a single sip to escape.

“When did you eat last?”

She had no idea, and the question was so out of left field that she shook her head dumbly.

“When?” His voice was slightly deeper this time, demanding an answer.

“This morning?” She guessed tentatively, as if she'd done something wrong.

The bed shifted, and she heard him rummaging around with something. When she sat back down, she wondered if he was going to tell her to go get something to eat, and then come back.

“Open,” He commanded.

What?

“Open your mouth.”

She did, wondering what the hell was going on. Nervous, she waited. When something round traced her lips, she almost closed them, shocked by the smooth cold of it as he first traced her upper lip, than the bottom. And then it was on her tongue, so light she barely noticed.

Closing her lips, she bit into the skin, the flavor of the grape mixing with the wine in her mouth, flooding over her tongue. Gasping with delight, she smiled. The grape's taste was sharper, sweeter, somehow.

“Open.”

She did, actually anticipating the next piece of fruit, only to be shocked by another small sip of wine.

Little by little he fed her grapes, blueberries, cherries, even strawberries, each bite followed by a small taste of wine, until she was positive another would kill her. The sensory delight of the textures on her lips and the flavors on her tongue, the juices gliding down her throat entranced her, drew her in. The simple act of eating became strangely sensual.

“Please, no more,” She demurred, when the pitted side of a strawberry rubbed tantalizingly over her lower lip. “I'll burst,” She sighed happily, earning another one of those deep, throaty chuckles.

“Just one bite,” He commanded. Feeling strangely eager to please the person that had probably spent the last hour or two -time had not only lost meaning, it had become an afterthought- pampering her, she took a bite from the strawberry, humming appreciatively as it slid down her throat.

The thumb that smoothed over her lip was a jolt to the senses, a warm, rough contrast to the fruit.

“You are a delight to watch,” He told her as his thumb traced the outline of her lower lip.

She had no idea what to say to that, because no one had ever told her she was a delight to watch, the words themselves so strange they should have been stilted, should have been silly. But they weren't.

“May I kiss you?”

Nodding dumbly, she couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath when the bed shifted again. Breath fanned over her face, warm, moist.

The kiss was almost chaste, a light pressing of lips. Shocked by the fullness, the softness of them, she didn't move, couldn't breathe for seconds that stretched into a lifetime. She could feel the soft exhale of his breath from his nose, the silkiness of long hair brushing against her face.

When he deepened the kiss, demanded more, she opened willingly, tilting her head to press harder against the warmth of him. His tongue was hot, teasing as it flicked over her lip, plunged into her mouth to slide against her own. The deep groan that rose from his throat and echoed into their kiss enticing a wave of purely feminine pleasure as he led her through it, lips and tongue moving in a slow, languorous dance. As he pulled away, she didn't notice, and didn't care, that she followed, wanting more.

His lips were moist, frighteningly hot as they trailed down her neck. Not caring if she seemed eager, greedy, she tilted her head to the side, mewling softly as his breath puffed over her skin, tickling the long, pale column of her throat. And when his tongue flicked over the especially sensitive spot below her jaw, she couldn't stop the twitch of her hips or the moan that reverberated in her chest.

Ignoring her moan, he continued, lips brushing over the spot, teasing it with his breath and tongue, making her squirm beneath him. His smirk was only too easy to define against her skin as he continued lower, kissing and nipping lightly, hands running up and down her sides. His hair brushed over her skin, and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that it had to be long, and it was incredibly soft.

Barely noticing when his hands moved beneath her back to undo her bra, she felt the cool air hitting her nipples, tightening already sensitive flesh almost painfully before his palms covered them in warmth. She wanted to say something, anything, but the only sounds that came out were mewls and a choked sob when his thumbs brushed over them simultaneously, the friction of the ridged calluses making her groan as he repeated the motion, then rolled them between his thrillingly large fingers.

He said something that was lost in the sound of the covers moving, her keening moans, and the groan that vibrated in his chest and against her stomach as his mouth, so much hotter than she'd imagined, closed over one. Long silky hair tangled in her fingers as she tried to hold him there, to savor the multitude of dizzying sensations that pulsed through her. His only response was to nip the bud, his teeth pressing into the flesh. Whirling, wanton greed made her back arch, made her gasp, a wordless plea for more.

He did not disappoint, nipping again, harder, making her hips buck in response. The friction against his stomach was too much to bear, and she moved her hips, wriggled, trying to get more. He hummed, the vibrations pulsing through his teeth and into her over sensitized flesh.

“Please, I want to touch you,” She half gasped as her hands went to his shirt, tugging it insistently. One of his hands went between her legs, and she could feel him unbuttoning buttons, sometimes brushing against her pubic mound, teasing with brief moments of pressure. He pulled away from her breast, leaving the nipple wet and cold after the warmth of his mouth. The shirt whispered against her thighs, rustling as it landed somewhere else on the bed.

Suddenly desperate to feel him, to 'see' him in some way, she sat up, her hands moving forward and colliding with a hard chest. Hungry to feel lines of him beneath her palms, she followed nonsense paths that went everywhere, delighting in the warmth of him. Lean, hard muscles moved beneath the skin as his arms went to her sides, grasping her waist and almost spanning the width of it with his hands. Each inch of him was exposed but an infinite mystery. Despite the warmth of his skin, she had no clue what color it was, and for all of the muscles and breadth of his shoulders, she didn't know how they were formed. His hair rested against his back, falling down the length of it as she explored like a greedy child, eager to touch everywhere.

When her hands moved up his neck, her fingers ended by tracing a strong, square jaw and high, slanted cheekbones. He shuddered when her fingertip traced the line of his lower lip, mimicking what he had done minutes or hours before.

“You're making it difficult to seduce you,” He murmured, leaning down. His long hair fell over her arms, a heavy curtain of silk that made her think of the scarf tied over her eyes.

“Please kiss me again,” She whispered, her lips moving against his own.

The next kiss was searing, hard. He demanded everything with it, and she gave in to it, leaning into him when she became too dizzy to support herself. His arms wrapped around her, steel bands of strength that brought her closer to his chest. Her nipples rubbed deliciously against his chest, her breasts pressed tightly to her body as he took control.

He pushed her down into the soft folds of the blankets and kissed her again, his breath coming in heavy, deep breaths as he moved down the column of her neck, between her breasts and down her stomach, tongue flicking out to dip into her navel before nipping the flesh below it. His hair trailed over her skin, following the path his lips took, sliding sinuously in the wake of his kisses.

He was rougher when he pulled off her panties, pulling her legs up and tugging them off with strong, determined yanks. Nervous excitement trilled through the heady warmth at the strange harshness of her panties tugging against her flesh, his hands forcing her legs apart.

Any sense of slow and seductive was gone, replaced by his sudden urgency as he moved between her legs, each one resting carelessly on a shoulder as he nuzzled her slit, tongue slipping from between his lips and tracing the openness of her.

“Ka-kauhhhhh,” She couldn't breath, couldn't finish a word as he began licking up and down her folds, tongue pushing against her clit insistently only to move lower again, teasing the entrance of her pussy. Over and over he repeated the circle, tongue pressing harder into her, the slick friction making her hips twitch and jerk with each moment of pressure. Loud moans echoed off of the walls and mixed with the sounds of incoherent pleading as she tangled her hands in the mass of his hair, tugged him closer.

When he finally began focusing on the over sensitized bundle of nerves, hard from arousal, she almost sobbed in relief, the aching pressure in her groin coiling even tighter as the tip of his tongue circled around it, flicked it again and again with more force. When she felt it sucked between his lips, she screamed, falling beneath the surface of the bed and floating somewhere in warm darkness, every inch of tension seeping from her. Shivers and shudders trembled through her body at random, pleasant jolts of tingling as he moved up her body and lay next to her, pulling her into his arms.

As she fell asleep, she noticed the crisp cotton of his pants and the cool metal of his belt buckle, the line of hair at his navel, and the strange, content sound he made as he kissed the top of her head.

__________________________________________

Upon waking, she felt warm and lazy. Blinking sleepily, she looked around the room, noticing that only a light in the corner was on, keeping most of the white bed in shadow. Groaning, a smile lit on her features as she savored the feel of the bedspread around her, snuggling and then stretching into it.

She was alone, that much she could tell, and she felt a flicker of regret that she'd fallen asleep before giving something back to the stranger. Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled herself from under the covers and looked for light switch in the dim shadows of the room. Finally locating one, she turned the light on, blinking against the harshness of it.

The room itself had not changed, although the covers were rumpled and the plate of fruit almost completely depleted. The wine bottle stood half empty, testament to the stranger's concern. Her clothing was all piled on the table, along with the white scarf, and a small envelope.

Eagerly she took the envelope, opening it and pulling the small card out.

_'Keep the scarf as a token. When we see each other again, wear it.'_

“When we-” She started, then stopped, moving backwards until the bed pushed the back of her knees forward, forcing her to sit down.

Again? Meeting again? But, it was supposed to be once. It wasn't supposed to happen again. It wasn't supposed to happen to start with.

And she wasn't supposed to want it again.

Abruptly the cloud beneath her vanished, dropping her back into the harsh, stark coldness of reality. The bed beneath her lost it's softness. Suddenly she wondered how many people had slept together on it, how many women and men had enjoyed the same softness she had hours before. The light became too bright, revealing not a single window in the suddenly suffocating room. Panicked, she stumbled over to the table, hurriedly began pulling on her mismatched underwear and the plain shirt and jeans. She didn't even care about socks as she tugged her sneakers on. She needed to get out, to get away from that bed, from the reminder of what she'd done.

Flinging herself from the room, she searched up and down the hall. No one was there. Breath coming in short gasps, she walked up and down the hallway, desperate to figure out how to get out of the building, to put as much distance as she could between herself and that room.

The elevator dinged open, and the woman from before waited inside, a small smile still on her lips.

“Please follow me ma'am, and we'll get you back to your car. Your partner said you had some wine to drink, and wanted to let you sleep,” The woman explained in a kind voice as she stepped into the elevator. Not saying anything, she allowed herself to be led out of the elevator to another black suv, this one with a different driver.

He drove her back to the parking garage without a word, seeming to sense her own emotional fragility. She stumbled out without saying anything, not even sure if she was supposed to. When she got into her car, she watched the suv drive away, wondering if it had taken her sanity with it.

“What have I done?” She whispered, mortification burning a shameful trail to her heart and wrapping around it painfully.

Tears began rolling down her cheeks, fat drops that dripped from her face onto her lap as she sat staring blankly at the steering wheel.

__________________________________________

A/N: Thank you to those that reviewed, they are making for awesome Christmas presents. Midnight Mass was cancelled since my best friend's brother came into town, so I'm at home cuddling my mate and hanging out. Who knows, there might be another update before sunrise. *winks* Besides, you think I'd leave that there on Christmas? Pfft. I'm not that cruel. 


	3. Reluctance And Rage

**Nothing risque, nothing gained.- Alexander Woollcott**

 

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Three**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

_The sun has not yet risen where I live, so I'm keeping my promise. Told you guys I wouldn't leave ya hanging. Except another update or two today. Merry Christmas perverts._

_Also, on my livejournal, I've made a fluffy short public for Christmas. The link to my lj is on my profile._

_____________________________________________________

She woke, groaning as as sat up. For a panicked second after looking at her alarm clock, she was worried she'd overslept, and it took another minute for her to realize it was Saturday, and her day off. Standing, she realized she'd fallen asleep in her clothes, and the events of the night before came back to her.

Arriving home to see Inu Yasha sitting on the couch, arms folded and scowling as he waited for her, like some sort of wronged man. It had only made her feel worse, and in the end she'd broken down and given him an overview of what had happened in the barest sense of the word, choked out around sobs and gasps and tears.

And he had hugged her. He'd suddenly been fine with all of it, which had disoriented her as much as her own reaction to the stranger. More gently than ever, he'd spoken to her, coaxed her into bed and tucked her in before telling her goodnight and leaving. Every bit of temper had vanished into a gentleness he hadn't expressed since taking her virginity.

In the light of day, after a full night's sleep, she understood why.

She hadn't had 'real' sex with the man, nor had she admitted to the intimacy of it. The spark of anger was rekindled, and she suddenly knew, _knew_ he had been afraid she would have sex with someone else. The vindictive, unruly spark of quickly growing fury whispered that she should have, and she should have let her boyfriend guess and wonder instead of telling him.

Well, he had his secrets, and now she had hers. Fuming, she stomped to her bathroom and turned on the light, getting ready for a shower. Angrily she tugged the shirt off with quick jerky movements and undid her bra, then slipped out of her pants. Throwing them to the floor.

Something flashed white in the corner of her eye, and she turned, heart beginning to pound as she stared down at the pile.

Somehow, the scarf had gotten in her pants when she had been dressing. In her haste and near breakdown, she hadn't noticed the thing somehow wedged into her pants leg. Picking it up gingerly, she stared at it, unsure of what to do.

She was never going to see him again, that much she knew. Even if Inu Yasha was suddenly okay with the one meeting, she knew he wouldn't be alright with another, she wasn't sure she could emotionally survive another.

But, wouldn't it be nice, maybe even normal to keep it? Sango still had small tokens of boyfriends past, and Miroku didn't begrudge them. She had no emotional attachment to it, except for the fact that she had felt...

Cherished, taken care of.

“No,” She muttered, flushing hotly. “No. It was just a last minute fling. After Inu Yasha has his, we're getting engaged, and it'll never come up again.”

She allowed the scarf to flutter down to the floor and rest on the clothing. Angry that she was still staring at it, she pulled off her panties and threw them on top of it, grateful to obscure just a little bit of the luxurious white silk with the plain, stark black cotton.

_____________________________________________________

The little black box sat innocently on the table, and she stared down at it.

No flowers. No popping the question. No romance, no nice restaurant or candles. Not even a smile. Just a look of fierce concentration on both of their parts.

“I set up a dinner with my parents to introduce you. It's on Wednesday.”

“Okay,” She mumbled, looking at the velvet box with something akin to fear. Apparently he'd had his fantasy. Not a word had been said about it, but she was sure he had done it. Maybe it was for the best. Both of them had gotten it out of their systems. Now they could settle down and be a normal couple, and make love only to each other.

Not that either of them had attempted that in the past week.

“I-um, I'll pick you up at six, it's at seven. Dress up a bit, my dad's sort of old fashioned.”

“Alright,” She mumbled.

“Look, I've got to go. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” She murmured. She didn't even stand when he grabbed the suit jacket from the back of the chair and stood. There was a brief kiss to the top of her head as he rushed out, and she heard him open his phone before he even hit the door.

Alone at last, after an hour of listening to him talk about how the wedding was up to her, how she wanted it done, everything, and his family would be paying, and that they'd set a date later. All of the details had gone over her head in favor of staring at the little black box. He hadn't even opened it to show her.

Her hands shook as she grabbed it off of the table and the box made a creaking sound, hinges tight as she opened it. Inside was a diamond big enough to feed a small country for a year, set in a simple yellow gold band.

She hated diamonds. And she despised yellow gold.

“Compromise, Kagome,” She reminded herself. Marriage was compromise. Give and take. After what they'd gone through in the last few weeks, everything else would be simple. After everything settled down from their 'flings' they would be fine, and everything would be normal again.

_____________________________________________________

 

She had absolutely nothing that wouldn't clash with her new, rather ostentatious engagement ring. In fact, she'd avoided wearing it. At the hospital it was a hindrance and outside of her work she was afraid someone would try to mug her for it. It had taken up residence on a small necklace. But the diamond and the band of yellow clashed with almost all of her clothing, not that much of it would be appropriate for meeting his parents. As a surgeon, she was allowed pantsuits and had two cocktail dresses for fundraisers. Scrubs and jeans were her normal clothing, one inside the hospital, the other for home.

Inu Yasha had said his father was old fashioned. An old fashioned man would not be pleased to meet his future daughter in law if she was wearing a suit of any sort, which left the two cocktail dresses. One was a blue number that would be just too much, bordering on gaudy for a simple dinner, the other too short.

She flipped open her phone, quickly dialing her best friend and praying the other woman wasn't still at the hospital.

“Hello?” Sango's weary voice said after the third ring.

“Sango, were you asleep?”

“No, headed home. What's wrong, you sound freaked.”

“I'm meeting Inu Yasha's family and I have nothing to wear.”

“I'll get some possibles from my place, you know I never throw anything out. I'll be there in fifteen.”

“You're amazing,” She breathed, already feeling better. The line went dead after hurried goodbyes, and she sat on her bed, running her hands through her still damp hair. Inu Yasha was going to pick her up in two hours. That gave her roughly an hour and half to come up with something decent. Groaning, she tugged at the wet strands helplessly, wondering when she'd become so serious, when her vision had dimmed to the world of her work.

'Medical school,' She muttered inwardly. Medical school hadn't given her the luxury of time. Every bit of her concentration had been focused on becoming the best. Even after graduating, she'd attended conferences and kept herself up to date on every new possible procedure and cure, almost killing her social life completely.

“I don't even have any friends outside of the hospital anymore,” She admitted aloud. Not including Inu Yasha and Sango's family, Miroku and her brother, and her own family, she barely knew anyone.

“Small wonder I have no idea what to do,” She added to the small bedroom.

Sango didn't even knock as she blew into the room, a garment bag in one hand and a makeup case in the other.

“My god we have got to find you sexier underwear,” The woman joked as she sat everything on the bed. Allowing herself to finally relax, she let Sango take over. The garment bag zipped open and several dresses were pulled out, some so red it made her eyes hurt and others so pink she wanted to run.

“Okay, so a gold ring and a big rock. That matches with red or white normally. Maybe green, if it's a shade of emerald,” The other surgeon said in an authoritative voice.

“No red,” She muttered, flushing under her friend's speculative gaze.

“I've got white, but I haven't got a thing that's green. Here, try this on,” She ordered as she unzipped the dress and held it from her to step into.

Hesitantly she put one foot in, then another, and let Sango pull it up. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she shrugged them up onto her shoulders, glad they were wide bands instead of tiny straps. The zipper came up, hugging the soft white fabric to her body.

“I think it looks great, but it's sort of plain,” Sango told her, eying her thoughtfully.

“Inu Yasha said his dad is sort of old fashioned, so plain might be good,” She said, happy with the other woman's observation.

“Let me do you hair and makeup, and you'll be a knockout. Go sit down,” She commanded. For the first time in years, she sat at her vanity and let someone else do her hair. Not since her first year anniversary with Inu Yasha had she taken such care with herself, or let anyone else do it for her. Relaxing as Sango began brushing her hair, she cradled her head in her hands and let her thoughts drift.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Everything would work out. It would just take time, something both of them had.

Something white fluttered in the corner of her eye, and she turned quickly, only to wince when her hair was pulled tightly.

“Don't move, I've got a great idea,” Sango commanded as she began twisting thick bunches of hair in her hands. She was about to protest, but stopped when she saw the bags under the other woman's eyes in the mirror. Not willing to bicker when her obviously tired friend was helping her out, she forced herself to relax. No one knew the meaning of it besides her, so there was no way Inu Yasha would get angry at dinner. If she could stop blushing. Or maybe they'd just think she was shy.

Several twists and bobby pins later, and her hair was twisted in an elegant chignon with the white silk woven through it, the ends trailing down the back of her neck for several inches, tickling it.

“Thank you,” She murmured.

“Not done yet, we'll go light on makeup since he's old fashioned. Besides, anything too heavy won't suit the look,” Sango mumbled thoughtfully as she opened her makeup box and began rifling through it.

A light dusting a powder, some pale eyeshadow and mascara later, Sango was trying to figure out what shade of lipstick to use.

“I'd rather use some gloss,” She offered. Lipstick had always been a bit too thick for her tastes, even when lightly applied. Sango nodded, and she opened the second drawer of her vanity, revealing three different shades of pink tinted gloss.

“Any of these will do,” Sango agreed, but picked up a medium pink and began applying it.

“Thanks again for this, you're a lifesaver.”

“I'm just glad you and Inu Yasha are finally settling down. If he waited any longer, Miroku and I were going to try and set you up with someone,” The woman sighed as she began putting everything up.

“I'll drop all of that off tomorrow. Go home to Miroku and get a massage, and some sleep,” She told her friend, pushing her out the bedroom and into the hall.

“A massage sounds amazing. I'll tell him it was your prescription,” Sango joked tiredly as she exited. “You've got shoes, right?”

“I've got shoes,” Kagome assured her as she saw her friend into the corridor of the apartments. Sango took one elevator down, and minutes later, a knock sounded, just as she was slipping on a pair of white pumps. Nervously she checked herself again. Her neck was strangely bare, but she shrugged it off. All of her jewelry was antique, mostly heirlooms and hand-me-downs, and she had nothing that wouldn't clash with the gold. Sighing, she patting her hair once, remembering the white scarf.

Another knock sounded and she rushed from her bedroom, turning the light off and strode down the hallway, not used to the skirt limiting her steps. When she finally made it, Inu Yasha was waiting o the other side looking slightly harried.

“Let's go, I was running late, another meeting,” He told her, already turning on his heels. With no other option but to grab her keys and lock the door, she wished for a handbag and shrugged as she tried to keep up with him.

“You look nice,” He told her, eyes flicking over her quickly before returning to the wavering reflection of himself in the elevator door.

“Thank you, Sango helped.”

“You should wear makeup more often,” He declared quietly as the doors dinged open and they walked into the parking garage.

More often? She was a surgeon, when did she have the time? Besides, when she did have the time, there was rarely a reason to. She didn't see herself putting on makeup just because he was coming over.

Calming herself, she inhaled deeply and slid into the car, taking extra care not to slam the door.

“What are your parents like?”

“Dad's strict, mom's a bit of a pushover.”

“You mentioned a brother, will he be there?”

“Not if we're lucky,” He muttered as he put the car into gear and began speeding down the road, weaving in and out of traffic with careless ease. She clung to the seat, afraid her already trim nails would break from digging into the expensive leather as he sped up even further.

They arrived at the building in less than twenty minutes, and Inu Yasha didn't say anything as they got out, the car doors echoing in the underground garage.

“Are you alright?” She asked as he inserted a key into the elevator panel, reminding her uncomfortably of the elevator in the building from memory.

“I'm fine, we're just late, which usually makes dad mad,” He said as they got in and he hit a number. She noticed it was for the top suite, and felt intimidated by the idea. Only rich people lived in the tops of buildings. Determined to put on a brave face, she smiled and clasped her hands in front of her, grateful they weren't sweating. By the time they reached the top, her cheeks hurt and she was sure her armpits were sweating so much she'd stain the loaned dress.

“Come on,” He said, walking to the only door on the floor and knocking. It opened, a petite woman with smiling brow eyes welcoming the both of them.

“Hello,” She murmured when the woman, she assumed Inu Yasha's mother, pulled her into a hug.

“Hello, you must be Kagome,” The woman sighed happily. “We've been waiting to meet you for some time. I'm Izayoi.”

“It's nice to meet you,” She smiled, relaxing in the woman's exuberant warmth. They walked inside, and the the condo itself almost stunned her back into silence. The whole thing was mix of smooth, austere elegance and soft opulence, dark lush woods combining with sleek, modern convenience.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Touga has a keen eye, doesn't he?” Izayoi chuckled. “We've already gotten dinner ready, but you aren't the only ones running late. Sesshoumaru is also behind schedule.”

“It's a wonder we got him to agree to get out of the office,” A new voice rumbled. Kagome turned, surprised by the sight of the older gentleman. His long hair was bound in a low tail, and she could see that it ran down his back. For a fearful second she was terrified that she had met the man from the encounter, but his voice was wrong. It was rougher, as if he smoked, or had. The notes were off enough to ease her fear. Slowly her heart resumed beating, and she reprimanded herself for thinking about it at all.

“I'm Touga. It's wonderful to finally meet you,” The man said, extending his hand. Kagome tried to shake it, but was startled when he leaned down and kissed the top of it chastely.

“It's wonderful to meet you sir,” She said, trying not to giggle at the man's antics as he clicked his heels together and gave her a goofy smile. Despite Inu Yasha's tension, she couldn't help but relax around the two people that had welcomed her into their home.

“My son tells me you're a surgeon,” Touga prompted.

“Pediatric neurosurgeon,” She said, flushing. Most people made endless fun of surgeons, and her own title was one of the ones up for more jokes than others. But Touga's eyes widened and his brows rose, Izayoi breathed a sigh.

“That's wonderful, Inu Yasha didn't tell us that. Which hospital do you work at?” Izayoi asked as she guided them to the living room.

“Kiyose Children's,” She admitted. Touga looked even more impressed while Izayoi's eyes seemed to shine even more brightly, if that were possible.

“That's quite an achievement, we've given funding to several of their projects,” He said thoughtfully. “It's strange that we haven't met before.”

“I'm shy at the fundraisers, and I'm lucky enough my boss doesn't try to force me into them too often,” She demurred. “He lets us do our job while he does his.”

“Smart man,” Touga chuckled.

A door opened and closed, and she heard a sigh as someone walked in behind her.

“Good evening, everyone.”

She stilled, and her heart stopped. She could feel the blood draining from her face and down her neck. For a brief moment she was afraid she would faint. Her vision swam, and the world spun around her. It was as if she'd inhaled anesthesia.

It wasn't possible.

Not. Possible.

“Good evening Sesshoumaru. This is Kagome, Inu Yasha's fiance.”

She turned, almost afraid to look. Instinct told her to run, to flee out onto the balcony, possibly jump over the side. Anything would be safer than looking behind her.

He was staring at her disdainfully, and she was almost afraid to open her mouth.

“It's nice to meet you,” He ground out.

“It's-It's nice to meet you,” She said, holding on to every bit of calm she could, calling on years of training to be steady in the face of fear.

Long hair, pulled into a low tail.

Same voice.

Same body type.

His eyes widened as she spoke, and the disdain left his face to be replaced with a mask of careful apathy.

“Sesshoumaru, don't scare her,” Izayoi admonished as she stood. “Let's have dinner, shall we?”

She stumbled along woodenly after Inu Yasha, her pumps clicking on the hardwood floors. Seating herself, she stared down at the plate, terrified to look up and have a view of the man sitting across from her.

“Kagome, tell us more about your work,” Touga prompted as Izayoi began bringing out artfully arranged plates.

“There's not much to tell,” She said, trying to force a smile to her face.

“Kagome is a pediatric, what was it?” Izayoi asked as she sat a plate down in front of her.

“Neurosurgeon,” She finished, staring down at the fish surrounded by a festive, colorful chaos of vegetables. Instinctively she knew that trying to eat them would be like chewing on lead. She tried anyway.

“We actually donate to her hospital.”

“We donate to many hospitals,” Sesshoumaru rumbled, making her shudder. It reminded her far too much of the rumbling purr he'd used that night.

“Play nice,” Izayoi said again. “He's a businessman, Kagome, married to his work,” The older woman explained. “Not a bit of charm, like his father. Unless there's a contract involved.”

She hoped they thought she was quiet because of his behavior, prayed that her thoughts were not being projected onto her face, or worse yet, from her brain onto the wall behind her, like some sort of sordid movie.

“Someone has to work,” He said in return, tone clipped.

“Enough, instead of work, how about some play related conversation?” Touga suggested.

She tried not to flinch at his choice of words.

“Kagome, what do you do for fun?” Izayoi prompted. She was saved, although not very gracefully, by her fiance.

“She's as much married to her work as Sesshoumaru,” He told them, not without a hint of sarcasm. “I've never seen anyone study so much outside of school.”

“It's important that I stay updated on new procedures,” She tried, praying she wasn't coming off as too defensive. For a sarcastic, almost wistful moment, she wished for an aneurism.

“It is commendable that you take such care with others lives.”

Surprisingly, it was Sesshoumaru who made the comment, and she looked up, flushing under his intent gaze.

“Only fools and the dead stop learning,” Izayoi agreed, smiling at the eldest brother.

After that, dinner was a mostly silent affair, the sounds of eating being the only ones at the table. Still queasy from the knowledge that _he_ was sitting across from her, she tried to eat, but each bite went down like a jagged rock, and she had to swallow several times for each bite.

By the time she was halfway through, the others had finished, and she smiled when Izayoi voiced her concern.

“It was delicious, I'm just a bit tired, forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Izayoi said, eyes warming. “You have a very important job, and Inu Yasha said you were working today. It's a wonder you made it. I've got some fresh fruit for dessert. Maybe that will perk you up some.”

She tried not to choke on her thank you, and she thought she did a wonderful job of it. Out of the two words, she only stuttered over one.

“So Sesshoumaru, when will you bring home a fiance?” Touga asked, making her swallow the wine incorrectly, and only a miracle kept her from sputtering..

“Dad can be really blunt sometimes, you'll get used to it,” Inu Yasha groaned. “Just no asking about babies for awhile,” He muttered in his father's direction.

“I do not have the time to date as of the moment, although I saw someone recently,” Sesshoumaru said, his voice carefully neutral. “I had hoped to see her again, but nothing has yet come of it.”

“The mighty Sesshoumaru, finally rejected,” Inu Yasha sneered.

She wondered if prey felt like she did at that moment.

“One wonders. Perhaps it was,” The other man replied in an offhand manner as Izayoi brought in a big platter of cut fruit. Bowls were handed out, and she looked at the platter, suddenly intimidated. He was staring back at her, and she knew that he was as sure of her identity and she was of his.

“Boys,” Izayoi sighed, although the sound was half forced. “Forgive them Kagome, they've been rivals since Inu Yasha was born. And Sesshoumaru, I'm sorry it didn't work out. Perhaps it'll change. We women are capricious characters,” She chuckled.

“Perhaps,” He said, serving himself. “Fruit, Kagome?”

She congratulated herself for not falling face first into the empty bowl in front of her.

“Yes please,” She murmured, handing him the empty bowl without looking at him.

“So what do you do, Kagome?” Izayoi asked. “Surely it's not all studies.”

“I enjoy swimming and study iaido,” She answered.

“A very appropriate study for a surgeon,” Sesshoumaru told her as he handed her the bowl. Startled by the approval in his tone, she looked up and caught his eyes. There was an intent curiosity there, and something dark below it, a shadow that swam in and out of the depths of his vivid gold eyes, permitting only glimpses. Each peek of that shadow was too brief to put a name to what it was, but she knew she was frightened of it, that it was bad. Worse than bad, potentially catastrophic.

“T-Thank you,” She stuttered, taking the bowl in her nerveless fingers. “My father practiced, and it's a wonderful way to relax.”

“Both of the boys enjoy kendo,” Izayoi said. “Sesshoumaru studied iaijutsu.”

“I also practice iaido,” He intoned quietly.

“Waste of time if you ask me,” Inu Yasha huffed. “Why sit there and try to draw a sword and put it back over and over?”

“It's not about the action, it's about the motion,” Touga cut in, nodding approvingly in Kagome's direction. “For a surgeon, someone who has to be precise in all of their movements, it is a wonderful way to learn calm and control. Even to relax while keeping her body and mind trained. It is an especially smart choice, as it is a solitary study, one that will not endanger her hands with sparring.”

“Precision is one aspect,” She admitted. “But my father practiced, and I suppose it's a connection to him as well. He used to teach.”

“What school?” Touga asked curiously.

“His own, the Higurashi Dojo,” She admitted.

“Your father was Higurashi Shun?” Touga asked, surprise coloring his voice. “I had the pleasure of competing against him several times, and a few practice sessions. A good man. I was sad when I heard he passed. I did not realize you were his daughter.”

“Thank you,” She murmured, allowing herself a smile.

“It's wonderful that our families are so connected, and we didn't even know it,” Izayoi sighed. “So have you two set a date yet?”

“Not yet,” Inu Yasha sighed, as if his mother had asked him a thousand times before. “I figured you would know how to do the rounds, introducing her to everyone before we did that.”

“Don't worry Kagome, I'll help you out. It can be quite bewildering, finding yourself in the middle of the business aristocracy,” Izayoi chuckled. Relaxed again, Kagome took an absentminded bite of a strawberry, humming appreciatively as she chewed.

“I would like that.”

Inu Yasha's cellphone began ringing, and he dug it out of his pocket, cursing under his breath when he checked the number. Without excusing himself, he got up from the table and walked over to the living room, looked back at the table, and then opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. He shut it behind him and disappeared around a corner.

“My son still lacks manners,” Touga bemoaned in such an over-dramatic fashion that she couldn't help but giggle.

“So how did you two meet?”

“At college, I was in the medical school and he was in the business school. A friend set us up.”

There was a strange silence that hovered over the table for a moment, and she wondered if she'd said something wrong.

“That's a long time to be dating,” Izayoi finally said, her smile somewhat forced.

“We've both been very focused on our careers,” She sighed. “It was only recently the idea of a wedding came up, to be completely honest.”

“You're very dedicated,” Touga said thoughtfully. “It's nice to see my son settling down.”

“Now if only we could find Sesshoumaru a bride,” Izayoi laughed, although there was a hollowness to the sound.

The sliding glass door opened, it's noise breaking through the sudden silence.

“I've got to go, one of the guys is in a jam,” He said, not even looking at the table as he rushed out. Stricken, she watched him disappear into the hallway, then heard the front door open and slam shut.

“Rude brat,” Sesshoumaru commented.

“A good woman will settle any man down,” Touga said, although there was an edge to his tone.

_How was this her life?_

“So, Kagome. Do you compete at all?” Izayoi asked, voice pitched a few octaves higher than it had been before.

“Oh no,” She said, latching onto the topic gratefully. “For me it's just a study.”

“Perhaps you and Sesshoumaru can practice for us. I taught him, and your father and I were evenly matched, if I might flatter myself. It would be interesting to see what has become of our progeny.”

“I'm not sure a dress would be conducive to that,” Izayoi snorted, giving her husband a flat look.

“So let her wear some of those training clothes I got for you. You know, the ones you wore once and then hid?” He chuckled, rising from the table and gathering bowls.

“I can help with that,” She offered, feeling out of her element now that Inu Yasha was gone.

“Oh no, go with my wayward wife and get into some practical clothing. You are a vision, Kagome, but she's right, it's not practical.”

“A pity,” Sesshoumaru murmured as his parents entered the kitchen. “White suits you.”

How was she supposed to respond to that?

“Thank you.”

“Husband?” He asked lightly, one eyebrow arching lazily.

It was the first thing he'd said that directly referred to their encounter.

It struck her that she'd envisioned someone dark, someone sultry. And somehow he was dark, despite the paleness of his skin and hair. He was something predatory, and it made her want to run for cover.

“You wouldn't understand.”

Izayoi stepped in, smiling brightly. More than grateful for the reprieve from Sesshoumaru's presence, she followed the woman through the huge condo, to a flight of stairs leading up. Izayoi chattered about meeting other family members, god parents and so on, and she listened with half an ear, wondering how she was supposed to focus when the man she'd be practicing next to was seemingly intent on knocking her off balance.

The spacious room they stepped into was not a bedroom, but a dressing room. One wall was dedicated to clothes on hangars, another to drawers of different sizes, and still another to shoe racks. The sheer size alone could easily fit her bedroom in it, and on the fourth wall there was a plush divan and vanity.

“I used to be a librarian,” Izayoi admitted. “When Touga and I met, I didn't even know he was a businessman. When he proposed, it was like becoming Cinderella. Although the story never talks about how overwhelming it can be initially.”

Apparently Izayoi had taken to it well, at least the clothing spoke of it.

“I'm still a librarian, but I work at one of the most well funded libraries in the city,” She chuckled. “And I'm sorry for my son. Inu Yasha has never been very tactful.”

“It's alright, I've known him long enough to be used to it,” She sighed. Izayoi began going through a drawer and uttered a small sound of victory when she pulled out a kimono and dark hakama.

“I'll let you change. I've got to find some of Touga's for Sesshoumaru,” The woman said, making her exit and closing the door behind her softly.

As soon as the door was closed, she put her hands to her hair and felt at the chignon, tugging it gently. But Sango had done her job well, the hairstyle stayed in place, resisting the slight tugs and staying perfectly in place.

“Damn,” She muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Steeling her resolve, she reached behind, and after several awkward moments, unzipped the top of the dress, grateful no one could see her reaching and straining. Next her shoes came off, followed by her panty hose.

Donning the uniform, she tied the kimono shut and then pulled the hakama up, tying it securely. She hadn't worn the uniform in years, but the motions were as automatic as holding a scalpel, done within seconds.

“Breathe,” She told herself. Straightening her spine, she opened the door and stepped on, allowing herself to savor the plush carpet beneath her feet before walking down the hall and then down the stairs. When she came down, she heard Inu Yasha's parents speaking in hushed tones, one hopeful, the other resigned.

“You settled me down,” Touga said defensively.

“You were not Inu Yasha,” Izayoi responded, her voice hinting at weariness. Intentionally scuffling her feet on the carpet as she walked, she was glad to hear the two stop. Stepping back into the living area, she saw that the coffee table had been moved out of the way, and the couches had been moved back, opening up the space.

“Hello Kagome. I'm glad they fit,” Izayoi said, smiling at her.

“Sesshoumaru is taking his sweet time,” Touga rumbled. “Primping no doubt.”

She laughed in spite of herself, the tension in the room seeping away. Izayoi was sweet, that much she could tell, and Touga as well. In a way he reminded her of her own father, and she relaxed at his easy banter.

“Hmph, if I had hair like that, I'd primp too. I swear, you men have hair that would make angels weep with envy. I just wish Inu Yasha would grow his out.”

“It's too old fashioned for the boy. Although if Kagome is of a mind, perhaps she can get him to grow his hair out.”

Izayoi turned to her, eyes suddenly wide and fluttering, a mockery of pleading.

“Kagome, don't you think long hair is wonderful?”

She tried not to think about how that hair had felt slipping over her flesh, and failed. Her blush lit her cheeks, and her face burned from the heat.

“Yes, it is,” She choked out.

“See?” Izayoi almost crowed.

“I doubt my brother will see the wisdom of such an advantage,” A voice rumbled behind her.

Maybe he wouldn't make the connection. She could hope, right?

“Sesshoumaru, very good. At least you haven't outgrown your old man,” Touga chuckled warmly. She turned, surprised to see him in the traditional black hakama and white kimono. More than that, his hair hung down, swaying as he walked forward.

“Shall we start performing for your amusement?” He drawled, brow arched.

“Hush you,” Izayoi admonished playfully. “Your father is marking this as a special occasion.”

Her eyes widened as Touga went over to the coffee table and brought back two very old swords, one in each hand.

“These are family heirlooms. Once, you father held this, and competed against the other. I would be honored if you would agree to use it,” He intoned quietly.

She had been readying herself to refuse, but the man's words stopped her. Tears threatening to mist her eyes, she nodded, swallowing the refusal down and accepting the old sword in gentle hands. Stepping lightly over to the cleared space, she knelt and placed the sword before her, bowing down over it. One of the most vivid memories she had of her father was of him bowing over a sword. That she was about to use a weapon he had used touched something warm in her, obliterating the anxiety the evening had brought.

Inhaling deeply, she stood, picking the sword up gracefully, then tucked it into the hakama. For the first time in the evening, she felt sure of herself, and let that assurance cocoon her.

“First,” Touga commanded.

They moved in tandem, side by side. They knelt, the blades came out came out smoothly, the metal almost singing as they swept an arc through the air. The motions came to her, easing her mind and carrying her from the living room and it's hardwood floor to the yard in front of her house, where she had watched her father practice and imitated him.

“Second.”

Touga's voice was strangely lyrical despite the brevity of the words. She pulled the sword again, lunged, stepped, and brought it back smoothly, angling it into the sheath.

“Third.”

The sound of the sword cutting through the air lulled her, it's sharpness defining her. Losing herself to the movement her muscles commanded, remembered, she drifted, allowing her body to take over.

“Fourth.”

They spun, and he was a spirit next to her, now a light complimenting her darkness. Their steps sounded in unison, the thud of their feet hitting the floor echoing through the room.

“Fifth.”

Her heart slowed down, and her world became the line of the blade and the sound of her breathing, his breathing, both sounding in and out in counterpoint to one another.

“Face.”

She had only ever faced her father, when she had barely been a teenager. She turned, moved back several steps.

“Sixth.”

They lunged forward, drew their swords. She inhaled, he exhaled. The swords arced, almost touched, then came back, slid into their sheaths.

“Seventh.”

He was intent, eyes focused solely on her as she moved. For the first time, she understood what her father had meant when he had called two opponents dancers.

“Eighth.”

She was lost to the swirling gold of his eyes, pushing forward and coming back on strong, sure legs. The cloth binding the handle was rough beneath her hands, solid. The world was nothing, he was everything.

“Ninth.”

Strong exhale, cross, turn, and they had traded places. She kept her gaze focused on him, let herself anticipate his breath, followed it with her own.

“Tenth.”

It surprised her that they moved so perfectly. Their swords came frighteningly close to swiping the other's midsection as they swung. Timed perfectly, she followed his lead. His eyes warmed with approval.

“Eleventh.”

The flutter of their hakama and the whisper of his hair sounded as they spun, and this time he followed her lead, seconds behind her as they crossed one another, swords in the air. The blades hummed as they slipped back into their sheathes.

“Twelfth.”

He went low, she went lower. He went up, she mimicked him. Their swords were sheathed simultaneously.

“Thirteenth.”

She went high, he followed by moments, and their swords cut the air in opposite directions. She imagined a rip in the wind itself as the sound vibrated through her. They were closer than before, almost too close for safety.

“Fourteenth.”

The sound echoed from somewhere far away, perhaps not even necessary anymore as they followed through with the movement, lunging in opposite directions. She could feel his hair against her hand as she moved, let herself spin into it, swing the sword, barely missing the tendrils as he turned to swing his own.

“Fifteenth.”

Too close, but just close enough. Both swords stopped short of making contact in the air, withdrew, as if out of respect, and were sheathed.

“Enough. I have seen enough,” Touga's voice said, shattering the glass that had kept both he and Izayoi separate from their world. Inhaling deeply, still drugged by the sensation of the sword's song, she knelt and pulled the sword and sheath from her hakama, laid it down, and bowed over it.

Once she saw that Sesshoumaru had finished, she stood and held the sword tenderly, as if it had been her father. On nimble, sure feet, she walked over to Touga, who was watching her with a strangely proud expression.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, it means so much to me, and I was honored to wield your family's sword,” She murmured respectfully.

“Tenseiga. It's name is Tenseiga,” He said, nodding to her as he accepted the sword. “And you faced my son, who wielded Tessiaga. It is that same match your father and I had many years ago.”

“You've honored me,” She said, bowing first to Touga and then to Sesshoumaru, who bowed in return.

“You honor me,” Touga rebutted gently. “You are your father's daughter,” He added, his tone sincere and strangely choked.

Those words meant more to her than the man could have known, and she greedily pulled them close and tucked them away, wanting to keep them safe.

“Both of you, that was beautiful,” Izayoi said. “I've only ever seen Touga and Sesshoumaru practice, but that was something else.”

“My father once said opponents were dancers,” She supplied, smiling as Touga walked away, swords in hand.

“Then you are both wonderful, graceful partners,” The woman said. “Perhaps a glass of wine before you go? I think I need one after such a display. You were both so focused. I've never seen anything like it,” Izayoi said, moving to the kitchen. She was about to follow when she felt something tugging her scalp gently. Turning, she saw the end of the scarf trailing from Sesshoumaru's fingers.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you wearing this?” He demanded, voice hinting at something she couldn't quite decipher.

“It was the only one that matched,” She answered honestly, surprised by the sudden darkening of his eyes. “Please, not now.”

“Soon,” He declared quietly, walking past her. When Izayoi returned, she was holding a glass of wine in each hand and smiling widely. Touga followed, a glass in his hand, Sesshoumaru with one in his. She accepted the glass gratefully, making sure to hold it by it's stem.

“It is very happy circumstance that has brought you into our family, Kagome. Welcome,” Touga said, lifting his glass. Izayoi lifted her own and she followed suit. Sesshoumaru, hanging back slightly, did not. Needing something to cool her parched throat, she took a long swig, grateful for the coolness numbing the dryness.

An hour later, after talking about family and explaining bits and pieces of her childhood, she was changed and walking out, dreading the coming car ride. Sesshoumaru followed, a silent, moving statue as she bid his parents goodnight and stepped into the hall. The elevator ride down was blessedly quiet, if tense. She followed him reluctantly to his car, afraid to be in that small of a space with him.

But he was mercifully silent as they got in and started the car.

“Where do you live?”

“Kiyose-shi, about three blocks east of the hospital,” She answered meekly. He nodded and pulled out of the parking garage into traffic.

“Does he know?”

She didn't want to talk about it, but she was terrified he would tell Inu Yasha if she didn't. Inu Yasha knowing she had been intimate with someone was one thing, but if he found out it was his brother, however much by accident, she had no doubt his attitude would change drastically.

“He knows.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” She groaned, leaning back in the seat and palming her face, not caring if she smeared the makeup Sango had so painstakingly applied.

“Why did you seek out an encounter? Your fantasy was not so,” He stopped, searching for a word. “Specific.”

“It wasn't supposed to happen,” She finally admitted, looking out of her window at the passing lights of traffic. “He really wanted it, kept pushing for it. In a moment of stupidity, I told him he could only do it if I could too. I expected him to back down before it happened. He didn't.”

He was silent for several minutes, navigating smoothly around the other cars.

“You must think I'm selfish,” She sighed.

“I think my brother is a fool,” He muttered. “And you as well, for agreeing to such a thing.”

“I don't disagree,” She said in a wooden voice. “I kept thinking that once we got past it, it would be over. I suppose the joke's on me.”

The ensuing silence was painful.

“Will you tell him?” He finally asked.

“Will you?” She countered, only to earn a derisive oath in response.

“Do I look like a fool?” He ground out.

“I suppose not.”

The silence was oppressive, but a better alternative to speaking as they drove along. When they finally came close to the hospital, she told him the turns to take in as quiet a voice as possible, afraid to speak too loudly. His whole body was tense, his fingers tight on the wheel as they drove along. When he finally pulled into the parking garage of her building, she was ready to fling herself out of it, moving or no.

“Thank you,” She sighed, opening the door.

“Why did you keep it?” He demanded, voice rough.

Best to break it off quickly and easily. At least if he actively disliked her, she would see him as someone she had to deal with, and not someone she had been intimate with.

“I didn't mean to. I almost had a breakdown when I woke up, and shoved my clothes on. It got caught on something.”

A long, lengthy pause.

“Goodnight.”

She slipped out of the car and walked over to the elevator. It dinged open when she clicked the button, and stepped in, forcing herself not to look backwards. When the doors closed, she exhaled shakily and slumped against the back wall. However, her body didn't stop, and soon she was sitting, tears burning her eyes.

The doors slid open, revealing her floor, and for the first time since hearing of her father's death, she didn't have the will to stand. A sob jerked itself from her throat, almost choking her as the doors closed. Weight bore down on her, the consequences of her choice suddenly becoming painfully clear. Another sob followed, until she was weeping, wailing into her hands.

“I'm so stupid,” She muttered angrily. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

The doors slid open and she didn't dare look up, prayed one of her neighbors wasn't witnessing her having a breakdown in an elevator.

Hands gripped her wrists and pulled them away from her face. Hands she remembered only too well. Knowing she couldn't bear to look at him, she kept her eyelids clenched tightly together, the tears still forming forced out between them and down her face.

“Look at me,” He commanded.

She shook her head rapidly, gasping for air as his hands clenched her wrists tighter.

“Look at me, Kagome. Now.”

The command in his tone forced her eyes open and she stared into the golden depths of his own. Something dark swirled in the gold, intense and so vivid she was sure she could cut herself on the edge of it.

“Have you thought about me since that night?”

She wanted to shake her head no, wanted to lie. But his eyes, the whorls of burnished gold mixed with light topaz drew her in, demanded nothing less than the truth.

“Yes,” She whispered.

His lips were hot, more demanding than they had been before. Any trace of tenderness was gone, replaced by a demand for entry, for submission. Stunned by the action, she let him take freely, eyes wide as he nipped her lower lip almost painfully. Despite her lack of response, he continued, nipping and lightly teasing her swelling lips with brief flicks of his tongue. When he pulled back, she gasped in a deep lungful of air, as if breaking the surface of the ocean after a dive.

“What floor do you live on?” He asked roughly.

“Seventh,” She mumbled dumbly.

He stood and pressed the button on the panel, then turned back and pulled her roughly to her feet. The doors closed, and he had her pressed against the back wall, his body a tense wall of heat against her own. His gold eyes were hungry as he stared down at her.

“Sesshoumaru,” She whispered, knowing only that everything was spinning rapidly out of her control, that she didn't understand what he was doing, what she was doing. He groaned, leaning down and nuzzling her neck, his breath flowing over it and sending every nerve it touched into overdrive.

“I imagined you saying my name,” He admitted, lips finding the spot he'd teased so relentlessly the first time they'd met. “Ever since I left that night. All evening I waited, and not once did you say it,” He muttered against her flesh, tickling the hollow of her collarbone with his words.

“Please,” She stuttered as his tongue, hot and wicked, dipped into the same hollow.

The doors dinged open, and he pulled back from her, eyes hooded and bright with lust.

“Which apartment?”

“C,” She mumbled, allowing him to take her hand and half drag her from the elevator. She stumbled in her heels, almost tripping as he led her surely to her door.

“Give me your keys.”

Her keys. Her keys were in Inu Yasha's car.

“I don't have them,” She admitted in a small voice. His eyes narrowed, and she saw the first flicker of anger in them, bleeding through the want.

“The truth,” He rumbled.

“I don't. I didn't have a purse, so I left them in his car.” It came out as something between a squeak and a whine, and completely unflattering as she pressed against her door.

“Is there another?”

The world stilled, and she looked up at him, mouth opening and then closing abruptly. There were two. One was held in the fire extinguisher's box with a magnet. The other required calling the superintendent. One would lead him into her home, and the other would probably force him to back off, give him time to cool down realize he was acting like a madman and leave.

Which one?

“The fire extinguisher,” She whispered, the exact opposite of what her mind had been trying to get her tongue and lips to form.

He looked to the end of the hall, saw nothing, then the other, and spotted the box.

“Retrieve it.”

She stumbled away from him, wobbly and weak kneed in her heels. She opened the door to the metal box and felt around the top for the magnet and key. Finding it, she pulled the key free and walked back over to him, eyes downcast.

He took it and unlocked the deadbolt, then the knob and opened the door, stepping in before her. She followed, and the door shut behind her with a decided click. His rough hand gripped her upper arm and he drug her over to her dining room table, forced her to bend over it.

“Stay,” He snapped, making her feel like a child.

The hem of her skirt was jerked up roughly, and her stockings ripped easily between his hands, the sound echoing in the small apartment.

Why was she doing this?

Determined to stop it, she began to straighten, only to be stopped by his hand pushing her back down.

“I told you to stay.”

“No, this isn't a game,” She shouted, pushing herself from the table and moving several steps away from him into the open kitchen. A counter pressed into her back, stopping her from going any further.

“You're right, it isn't,” He snarled. “And yet you played like it was.” With a few long, angry strides, she was pinned between him and the counter, looking up into his infuriated, cold eyes.

“I didn't-”

“You used me to make my half brother jealous-”

“I didn't mean to, it wasn't supposed to go that far,” She snapped, growing angry with him. “I told you, and it's not like I knew you were brothers until tonight.”

“It could have been anyone, you would have used anyone-”

“It was just sex, not even that much,” She bit out.

His nostrils flared angrily, and the next thing she knew, his hands were lifting her onto the counter, pushing her skirt higher on her hips. Her legs were spread rudely apart, the tear in her stockings growing wider.

The kiss was angry, and she was sure it was the first of it's kind that she'd ever received. Resisting, she kept her lips pursed tightly shut, refusing access to the tongue sweeping over them. A sudden yank that pulled against her scalp made her cry out in pain and his tongue was sweeping over her own.

Far from afraid, she was infuriated. She brought her teeth together, barely missing his tongue as it slid free from her lips. Determined to push him away, he easily captured both of her wrists with one hand and held them in place as the other went between her legs and pulled roughly at her panties, ripping the soft cotton, bruising her hips with each determined jerk.

“I'll stop if you ask me to.” His voice was ragged, throaty. The hand that had so carelessly destroyed her panties was moving between her legs, barely touching her mound. “But if you don't stop it now, it won't end until I say it does.”

“Guess that's just how you 'dominants' are,” She flung out childishly. It was stupid and foolish, the worst possible thing to say, and she had no idea where it came from, couldn't stop it. Something dark was goading her, pushing her to bait him and break his temper.

“Brat,” He snarled, lips crashing against her own.

Against her better judgment, she allowed him to kiss her, kissed back. Intoxicated on their mixing anger, she bit his lower lip hard, earning a deep, almost feral growl that vibrated up his chest and over her tongue. The hand holding her wrists relaxed, but went to her hair, grabbing the twisted mass and pulled it back, earning an outraged shriek as he began biting down the side of her neck.

His other hand fumbled between her legs, and then she felt his heat against her groin, rubbing up the length of her slit and then down, pressing into her entrance.

“So wet,” He muttered against her neck. “You want this.”

She said nothing, refused to answer in the face of her body betraying the truth. The hand on her chignon jerked, making her gasp in pain.

“Last chance,” He snarled, cock pressing against her, warm and hard.

Suddenly, she wanted him more than anything she'd ever wanted, even as she wanted to bash his skull in. It didn't make any sense, and she realized that she didn't care.

“Yes.” The word became a loud moan that ricocheted off of the kitchen walls as he thrust into her, stretched her around him. Both of them stilled, shuddering as legs pressed into his hips. When he pulled out, it drew a long, low groan from deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” He bit out, the word sending a dark spiral of lust stabbing into her belly. It pooled and coiled there, waiting expectantly. “You're so goddamn tight.”

“Please,” She whimpered, tilting her hips, trying to get more of his length into her, needing to fill the emptiness, greedy for the friction.

“Tell me what you want,” He snarled, barely pressing into her.

“Please, please,” She moaned, legs wrapping around his waist and trying to bring him closer.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” He commanded, the rough baritone of his voice scraping strangely, pleasantly over her skin.

“Fuck me,” She whimpered, the words almost foreign in her voice, burning her tongue. Somewhere in her, a darkness rose, ephemeral tendrils reaching out and coiling around her self control. He wanted the words, wanted the dirtiness. She rarely cursed, even alone. But the taboo of the word, the utter strangeness of it in her mouth, coming from between her lips, suited the situation, wove into the shadow flickering through his gold eyes.

“Louder.”

“Please, fuck me, Sesshoumaru,” The words were a keening cry, the dark other rising from deep within and encompassing her mortification with it's own heady desire.

His cock slammed into her, a scream echoing through the whole apartment as he gripped her hips with both hands and began sliding in and out with harsh, fast strokes. The sound of their flesh meeting was lost in half strangled attempts at his name, at begging. Syllables were lost as he pressed into her again, pain lancing through the pleasure as he filled her completely, stretching her beyond her limits. Strong fingers bruised her flesh, digging in more with each stroke.

“I'm, com-kami,” She breathed through gasps and moans.

“Beg,” He demanded. “Beg or I'll stop.”

She couldn't beg, she could barely breathe. Unable to voice even a please, she stared up into his gold eyes, praying he saw the plea there. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he began to slow down, his thrusts growing more and more shallow, dragging her back from the edge ruthlessly.

“No, _no_ ,” She groaned, tightening the grip her legs had on his waist.

“Beg,” He demanded again, voice sharp.

“Please, please let me come. Please, so close,” She whimpered, hands fisting the smooth cotton of his shirt and twisting it in frustration. “Hurts,” She keened, hips twitching of their own accord.

“Hurts?” He breathed as he withdrew even more. “Hurts how?”

“Good, so good,” She moaned, arching her back up and exposing the line of her throat.

“This?” He demanded, filling her again in one swift movement and then stilling himself. Panting and half delirious from want, she tried to force a word, any word out, and couldn't, nodding and moaning her response.

There was no buildup, no chance to become accustomed to the sudden brutal, hard thrusts, and each one sent her closer to the edge, the dark other blanketing everything in it's delirium until she was screaming her release, spiraling into him, the feel of his solid warmth between her legs, his hair in her fingers. His breath escaped into her lips, flavored with dark, primal sounds that thrummed through her like jolts of electricity.

She could feel the walls of her sex pulsing around him as he continued, felt him pushing her deeper into the darkness until it surrounded her, smothered her. Waves pulsed through her, burning her nerves and scorching every part of her flesh pressed against his. The sound that erupted from his throat as liquid heat spilled into her made her shudder, the feel of his manhood pulsing in her as he came triggering a smaller orgasm that made her tremble and lean into him. Dimly she accepted that it was the first time she'd ever felt a man come inside of her, suddenly understood the craving women had for the foreign, warm slickness of it.

For several minutes they stayed like that, shuddering and trembling violently, leaning against each other for support. And for most of those minutes, she didn't understand anything, each thought a nonsensical brush against her consciousness.

Until he pulled back and looked down at her, hair clinging to his face, damp from sweat. He inhaled sharply as she stared up at him dumbly, still lost in the haze of her orgasm.

“Kami, you're beautiful,” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her. This kiss, unlike the others of the night, was tender, sweet. For some reason, it brought fresh tears to her eyes, which pooled and then slid down her cheeks. When he finally ended it, she felt a strange twisting in her heart, bringing her back to the world with all the subtlety and sensitivity of a knife in her flesh.

When he looked down and then cursed, she jumped, remembering who he was, what he was.

“Oh Kami,” She whimpered.

“I hurt you,” He snapped impatiently. “I'm sorry.”

“We- what?”

She looked down and saw the light red traces of blood, barely there.

“Shit. Condom,” He bit out, pulling away from her fully and leaving her feeling cold as the darkness in her withdrew, revealing a gut clenching horror. The sound of him arranging his clothing only added to her mortification.

“I'm on the pill,” She answered quickly, sliding off of the counter and pulling the skirt down, covering her nakedness. Feeling awkward and ashamed, she hugged herself, a futile effort to will the chill away.

“I-I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking,” He intoned, voice neutral and face blank. She looked away, her cheeks flushing hotly.

“It can't happen again. This, never again.”

He said nothing, but she heard him step over to her and then her chin was jerked up, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“No regrets,” He declared, although she was almost sure it was a command. She blinked in response, not sure of what to say. He repeated his words, and she blinked owlishly again.

“No regrets, Kagome,” He intoned a third time, voice gentling as he said her name.

Why did it hurt to hear him speak like that?

“No regrets, Sesshoumaru,” She lied.

He shuddered at the sound of his name, eyes closing briefly.

“Goodbye,” He said, spinning on his heels and taking several long, hurried strides to the door, and then he was gone.

If reality had been any heavier, she would have broken beneath it as it pressed down on and around her. Suffocated, she began pulling at the clothes, tugging the dress over her head and throwing it to the floor. The shoe that had remained on her foot was kicked somewhere into the adjoining dining room, her pantie hose were scrunched off and joined the dress, then her bra.

Naked, chest heaving with each desperate breath, she stalked to the bathroom, flinging the door open carelessly and turning the light on.

The sight of her face in the mirror, face pale and lips swollen from brutal kisses, made her want to scream, to shatter the reflection. The tails of the white scarf hung over her neck, only enhancing the already forming bruise from an especially painful bite, one she hadn't minded in the least. With swift, vicious tugs she pulled her hair free from the bobby pins and scarf, first small locks coming free, then larger ones until her hair was a wild, riotous mass around her face.

She looked like a madwoman.

Turning to the shower, she yanked the curtain back and stepped in, turning on the water, not noticing that it was freezing as she grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into her palm.

Almost frenzied, she tried to clean off the scent of him, the smell of their sweat mingling on her skin, the physical memory of him pressed into her. The cold water banished any remaining vestiges of her encounter, save for the soreness between her legs and the finger shaped bruises on her sides.

When she finished, she turned the water off and left the bathroom, not even bothering to dry off as she walked into her bedroom and flung herself onto her bed.

Too spent to cry anymore, she allowed emotional exhaustion to steal the last of her strength, and the darkness overtook her.

  _____________________________________________________

A/N: I swear there will come a time when she doesn't have a nervous breakdown after they smex. I PROMISE. And it's soon. Anywho. I've never understood the logic of matching an outfit to a ring, but my friend insists on it, which I find very strange. As for iaido, that is a beautiful martial art form, one I enjoyed watching videos of on youtube and reading about. There is a philosophy behind it, essentially something like iaido zen. It's made for an interesting read, and it seemed appropriate for our heroes. The hospital likewise exists, and is one of Tokyo's better hospitals. I suppose I should say I don't own it either lol.

Keep a watch, more is coming today. I'm going to bomb you with chapters.  And reviews make awesome Christmas Presents (even for pagan heathens like me)


	4. Bang Bang

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Four: Bang Bang**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:** Nada.

**This is a sad chapter. Because I am a benevolent author though, I'm adding to it as soon as I can get it formatted to dokuga, which means five minutes after this posts, tops. AKA refresh this and you'll probably get the next chapter when you're finished reading.**

**Also, thank you to everyone that has been reviewing. I love you guys sooooooooooo much.**

 _________________________________________

Her phone rang insistently, and she blindly felt for it on her nightstand, found it, and brought it under the covers.

“Higurashi?”

“Hnn?” She groaned, wondering why her boss was calling her.

“I know it's short notice, but we've got no one else, Tamoto is with another patient and Omura is still at his conference. Can you come in, it's important. Crash, severe spinal injury, we'll need you with Sango on this one.”

“I'll be there in fifteen,” She promised, forcing herself from the bed. Hurriedly she flew to her dresser and tugged on underwear and a sports bra, then pulled on a plain cotton shirt and jeans, the pain from the bruises not even registering in her half blind panic. She barely had her socks on and her shoes in her hands as she stumbled out of her apartment, key in hand.

“Kagome?”

She turned, eyes widening at the sight of her fiance.

“Inu Yasha?” He always called before he came over, always. What was he doing at her apartment? Shouldn't he be at work?

“Yeah, I was coming, about last night-”

“I can't Inu Yasha, I've got to go, there's a case that's come up and they need someone now,” She explained hurriedly as she made for the elevator. He followed, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath, the precursor to him yelling. Hopefully he wouldn't. The child waiting on her already had her complete attention, and she began preparing herself for a major surgery. Mentally she fortified her mind against everything, from her fiance's abrupt departure the night before to what had happened in her kitchen. Nothing was important, nothing _could_ be important.

“I can drive-”

“It'll be faster if I hoof it, no traffic or stop lights,” She told him, waiting impatiently for the elevator. “Maybe we can have dinner tonight?”

“Mom wanted you to meet up with her for dinner,” He stuttered as she hopped into the metal car and pressed a button, tapping her foot.

“Are you going to wait there?” She demanded impatiently. He stepped in, copper eyes wide as he claimed the opposite corner of the car for himself. The doors closed and it began it's descent. She crossed her arms, wondering how bad of an accident it could be, how old the child was, what kind of shape the parents were in, if they were even alive.

“Here are your keys.” The jangling sounded, startling her from her reverie.

“Thanks,” She sighed. “Can you put this one back on the magnet?” She asked, holding out the solitary key she had used to lock her apartment up. He nodded, taking it. “I'm sorry, it's just been crazy at the hospital, and they called specifically for me, I didn't mean to be so short with you.”

“Are you sure you don't want a ride?” He asked as the doors opened and she stepped out.

“No, I'm good, look I've got to hurry. Give your mom my number and I'll call her back!” She called over her shoulder, not even thinking about him, or the events of the night before, or dinner with his mother. Her feet pounded against the pavement, eating up the distance between herself and the hospital as she took her shortcut behind the next apartments and through a truck docking area for another building.

Forcing herself to keep her breathing even, she kept pushing forward, ignoring the stitch in her side as she crossed another street, barely missing a car that honked angrily behind her. Within minutes she had crossed the distance and ran into the hospital itself, blowing past the startled patients and family in the lobby. The elevator doors were almost closed when she called out, hoping for them to open.

They did.

“Thanks,” She panted, barreling in and bending over, gulping in air and holding her side. “Fourth floor please,” Came wheezing out.

“I thought you swam, Kagome,” A voice chuckled, making her freeze. She looked up, shock making her list when she saw Touga's face staring down at her, eyes lit with good humor.

“Mr. Taisho-”

“Touga,” He corrected. “Or father.”

“T-Touga,” She stuttered. “What are you, I mean, I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to see you here.”

“Once I found out my future daughter in law worked here, I decided to investigate. It seems your department has been very busy the last few weeks.”

“Mmm,” She admitted. The doors opened and she was torn between not seeming rude and rushing to the patient.

“I have a surgery I have to get to, I'm so sorry,” She said, stepping from the elevator. He nodded knowingly, waving as she rushed out. Breathing a sigh of relief, she jogged to her office, knowing the administrator would already be waiting. When she stepped in she saw a thin folder sitting on the table.

Not taking the time to exchange pleasantries, she opened the folder and slipped the black and clear scans onto the light board, eight in all, and turned the light on.

“Oh,” She breathed, barely a whisper, immediately seeing what had happened.

“Yes, oh,” The administrator answered. “You see why we need fresh minds for this?”

“I'm good. I need to get prepped after studying these for a few more minutes,” She told him, eyes still on the pictures in front of her. The door opened and closed, and she stared the picture down, fingers absentmindedly going through the stretches a professor had taught her long ago.

Subarachnoid hemorrhaging. Crash. It had to have been really bad, the child's spine was crushed.

“Do this,” She told herself, looking at the mess the child's body had been turned into. She tried not to think about the girl's hair color, or what her eyes would look like.

After fifteen minutes of prep, she was in the room, watching the patient wheeled in.

She was even smaller than the mri and ct scans suggested, made more so by the tubes and monitors hooked into her, feeding into her nose and from all over her body. Her face was indistinguishable from the mess of stitches and scrapes. One lid was bruised, another flat over the now empty socket. Trying not to think about what the girl had been thinking about, what she'd been doing before she had been in the accident, she began her work.

Orders were whispered quietly, her team worked in silence as they began, first opening the skull and trying to find the source of the bleeding. The acrid smell of cauterizing the site rose past her mask, entered her nostrils. Her fingers were light, precise, and she kept her eyes focused on the goal.

Somewhere a monitor went wild.

“What's going on?” She demanded in a whisper.

“Swelling, it's been getting worse.”

“How bad?”

“I'm going to relieve pressure on this side, move back.”

She moved her hands away as the saw sounded in the room, and another kind of burnt smell joined the others. She knew the scent of bone being sawed, but she'd never gotten used to it, and forced herself to get past it and focus.

“Done,” echoed through the room a minute later.

The monitors were not stopping their dissonant cacophony of noise.

Her stomach bottomed out as she took in the numbers escalating at breakneck speed.

“It's not enough. How much did you take?” She asked, looking into the other surgeon's eyes. It was Sango. She hadn't even noticed before that moment. The other woman's eyes were bleak, and what little of her face was exposed was getting paler by the second.

“An inch.”

“Another, field around it, make it two.” Calm. Cool. Collected. Fear had no place in a surgeon, no place in the operating room. Calm. Cool. Collected. Controlled. Control the situation, control yourself. The mantra she'd learned as an intern pulsed through her, calmed her.

The saw began again. When it finished, there was no change. The dissonance faded into the background as she stared at the exposed area of the little girl's brain.

“It's too fast,” Sango whispered.

“Can you relieve pressure on another side?”

“Maybe-”

“Be sure,” Kagome commanded, voice even despite her own uncertainty.

The monitors continued as Sango looked down at the girl's shaved head.

Then the wild chorus of beeps slowed, turned into the low whines that echoed in their ears.

“It's too late. With that kind of swelling, it had to have reached a point, something. If it started like that, then it was happening fast, we would have had to take the whole skull pan,” Sango said, eyes still latched onto the two inches of exposed brain where she had taken part of the skull away.

Somewhere, someone announced the time of death. She nodded, repeated it woodenly. Sango did the same, and they both filed out of the surgery into the prep room, pulling off gloves and tossing them into the bin.

“Kami,” Sango whispered. “I expected a lot from that, but not-not,” Her voice broke, and a deep, shaky inhale followed.

“Do you have anything else scheduled today?”

Her friend shook her head, the movement limp as shoulders slumped in defeat.

“There was nothing we could have done. The swelling started and went quickly, too quickly. It probably started during the accident and sped up due to the surgery. Talk to Nami, go home, call Miroku and get him to cuddle with you.”

The other woman nodded, heading out of the room. The other began filing out, all of them looking slightly out of sorts. Each one nodded listlessly, stayed silent as they discarded gloves, masks and caps. None of them even noticed that they still wore the plastic coverings over their shoes as they walked out, leaving her alone in the prep room. She turned, saw the body still lying on the table, under the harsh light.

She would be expected to stay until someone came from the morgue. But she didn't want to. She wanted to get away.

“Kagome?” A voice asked, she looked up, saw Nami's concerned gaze. “I spoke to Sango. I know it was your day off today, and I'm sorry. I thought this one had a chance.”

“It was beyond our control,” She sighed, hugging herself. “Swelling the scans didn't catch before we took her in.”

“She's only been in the building for four or five hours. Neither of her parents survived either, although the bastard on speed that hit them did,” Nami sighed. “Sango told me what she did. There will be the normal inquest, I'm sorry. But I can put it off for a few days. After you sign her over, go back home, or with that cute boyfriend of yours.”

“Thanks,” She murmured as the administrator nodded and left her alone.

The absolute silence of the surgery resumed, a light, airy thing that she had always appreciated. Now it seemed oppressive, thick. The air became difficult to breath, each inhale becoming more and more difficult. She'd lost people before, lost children. But not so quickly, not so unexpectedly.

The door opened, and she was grateful to see a morgue technician pulling a gurney.

“These are always the worst,” He sighed. Kagome nodded, she didn't know him, and had always taken that as a good sign, but now she felt terribly bad for not knowing him, for never saying hello. Felt bad for wanting to avoid him. Quickly she signed the papers and watched him go in, shoulders slumped as he began moving the body. She knew she should offer to help him, but she couldn't find it in herself to do it.

Hurrying from the room, she didn't even bother with her mask or cap, instead rushing to the locker room, intent on getting the scrubs off and showering, then going home and crawling into her bed. Each step brought her closer to freedom, and she kept looking at her feet, making sure that one followed the other, needing to focus on something. Counting, she was at step twenty seven when she slammed into someone.

“Excuse me,” She heard, and wanted to scream. Obviously the gods were punishing her.

“My fault.”

Maybe he wouldn't recognize her voice, or what little of her face was visible.

“Kagome?” He asked, stopping her as she tried to get away.

“Please, I can't,” She whispered, pulling away from him weakly. “Please, I just need-”

“What happened?” He asked gently, moving closer and tilting her head up with a finger under her chin. Her strength was failing her, and the gentle cadence of his voice was laced not just with a command for an explanation, but concern. At that moment, she wanted to give in to that concern, to let someone prop her up before she fell over, fell out.

“Some bastard high on drugs crashed into a car that held a family of three. The parents were already dead,” She stated, trying to keep her tone factual, the kind of voice she used when presenting a case to one of her superiors. “The little girl, she-she-” Her voice broke. The ability to detach herself from a case deserted her. The little girl was not a case, she had been a child. That reality slammed against defenses she had been taught to build since entering medical school, shattering them.

“Shh,” He whispered, pulling her close. She didn't care that anyone saw her hugging him in the hallway, didn't care that he was Sesshoumaru, that they had slept together the night before, that he was her fiance's brother, because he was solid and real and _alive_. Each inhale, each heartbeat she heard in his chest made her want to break down and cry.

“Go change,” He commanded, releasing her, but only to throw an arm around her shoulder. Grateful for the support, no matter who was offering it, she half led him to the elevator, and then up two floors to the locker room.

“Shower, get dressed,” He rumbled quietly, and she nodded. There was nothing else to do but shower and dress.

The shower was a blur of water and motion, and she dried her hair with a vague sense of how wet it was. Dressing was equally vague, the whole experience unfocused around the edges. When she came back out, he was still waiting, Touga with him, their backs both turned to her.

“He's supposed to be working,” The older male sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I have an idea.”

“Huh?”

“Bull's eye,” He murmured thoughtfully.

“You think that's wise?”

“Let me try. Until he can be found, I'll take care of her.”

“Thank you. If we find Inu Yasha-”

“I'll bring her back when she's ready,” Sesshoumaru intoned. Touga nodded, ran a hand through his hair again, a heavy sigh escaping.

“Hello,” She said, startling the older man and making even Sesshoumaru jump a little as they turned.

“Kagome, hello. Inu Yasha is currently in route to an important meeting,” Touga said, face sad. “Sesshoumaru has offered to give you a lift. I still have some paperwork to go over with the board.”

She nodded woodenly.

“What's bull's eye?” She asked plainly.

Touga flushed and Sesshoumaru inclined his head.

“Therapy.”

She followed him to the elevators, not noticing if anyone watched them, and let him lead her by the hand through the parking garage to his car. He said nothing as he helped her in, opening and closing her door for her, then getting in on the other side.

After several minutes on the road, she finally spoke, although her voice was strange, foreign to her.

“My father died in a car accident.”

“I know,” He acknowledged quietly.

“They were speeding and ran the red light, and hit the driver's side, crushing the whole of it. He lived for three days. Through two major surgeries.”

“I know,” He said again.

His quiet acceptance, his acknowledgment, was better than the profuse apologies or awkward verbal fumbling that had followed other declarations of her father's death.

They pulled into the warehouse district and he pulled up to a lot surrounded by chain and barbed wire. Quickly he punched in a code and the gate slid open. He parked and looked at her, hand taking hers.

“Come with me,” He commanded quietly.

Unquestioning, she did as he asked, numb and cold as they stepped into the sun. The day itself was at odds with her mood, with the death she had witnessed, had not been able to stop. He didn't try to take her hand again, instead opening a door for her and allowing her to step in before him. Her eyes had to adjust to the normal lighting, and she blinked once, then saw the blue walls, the targets on one, guns on another.

“Come.”

She followed, staring at the human shaped target on the wall, the center a mess of frazzled paper. Voices murmured in front of her, but her eyes stayed peeled to the target, to the hole piercing where it would do the most damage, in the center. When it passed through the tissue, it would hit the spine.

She'd never had to deal with a bullet wound in a child. The thought sent a grateful shudder through her.

“Come with me,” He told her, taking her hand and leading her through a door into a wide room with several paneled off cubicles. He continued walking until they were in the center, and he pulled a chair from the wall and pushed down on her shoulders until she was sitting.

The man from behind the counter came in carrying a small, plastic carrying case and another metal one, as well as two large, bright orange sets of plastic and foam earmuffs.

“There's enough in there to take down China,” The man said, setting everything on the counter in front of them. “I'll set up a few targets down range.”

Sesshoumaru said nothing as he opened the box and began assembling the gun with practiced ease. She watched his hands moving smoothly over the black metal as pieces came together. When he finished, he sat it down and opened the metal box. A smaller plastic box came out, filled with large, conical bullets.

With the same fluid ease that he'd used to put the gun together, he loaded one slide, and then another, and then the third.

“Range clear!” A voice echoed.

He pushed a slide into place, and sat it back down on the counter, the barrel facing the wall off in the distance.

“Kagome,” He said, pulling her to her feet. “Pick up the gun.”

She shook her head. Guns were the antithesis to her work, and the last thing she wanted to do was pick up the big, clunking piece of destructive potential.

He picked it up in both hands, and she looked at his large hands holding it. The same hands that had held a sword, that had held her. How could they be holding a gun?

“You hold it like this. It's a single action, so when the safety is off, you only have to cock it once and pull the trigger.”

He held it out to her, and she wondered why he was holding it strangely.

“Kagome,” He rumbled.

She shook her head.

“Trust me.”

The quiet command reverberated through her, and she reached out her hands and grasped the pistol. It felt huge, unwieldy in her hands as he released it. A shaky inhale shuddered through her as she brought it up higher.

“Keep it pointed downrange,” He instructed quietly as he came behind her. She nodded, bringing it up higher. The earmuffs closed over her ears slowly, muffling noise His arms came around hers, and his hands covered her own for two seconds as he cocked a lever back, the click sounding over her suddenly short breaths.

“Pull the trigger,” Came through the ear muffs.

Her finger pulled back on the mechanism, which depressed more easily than she thought it would. He kept her steady, braced her arms with his own as the sound echoed through the room. The gun vibrated in her hands, and the force made them lift up several inches.

“Do you see the target?”

She nodded.

“It is the man that killed that family. Keep pulling the trigger.”

He stepped back. She stared at the target. Imagined the crushed spine, the battered face, the eyeless socket.

Her scream was louder than the firing of the gun as she pulled the trigger over and over, each bullet aimed at the torso, where the heart would be. Frustration and rage poured into the sound, and she pulled the trigger back again and again until it clicked and stayed in place.

Panting heavily, she noticed the strange smell of the smoke, the sweat on her back.

“Do you need to shoot again?”

She sat the gun down with nerveless fingers and shook her head, the rage gone, unmasking the memory of the girl on the table and the fear she had felt when the monitors had gone crazy. The shots still echoed in her ears, and she was falling, a loud wail erupting from her throat as strong arms grabbed her and let her kneel gently on the floor.

“I couldn't do anything!” She sobbed, holding onto the lapels on his jacket. “I had to sit there and just watch it happen! She died and I couldn't do anything!”

The muffs came off and she pulled at the oily darkness, the poison in her heart, purging it.

He let her cry, he let her scream and hurl out every awful thing she could think of, let her make demands of the kami and heavens, watched her devolve from the girl she hadn't been able to save to the father she prayed to every time she stepped into the surgery.

When she finally quieted, words gone and numbness setting back in, he pulled back and looked down into her eyes, his own gold orbs strangely vibrant and bright, as if he had held his own tears in check.

“Kagome, you have dedicated your life to saving others. Sometimes they cannot be saved,” He murmured. “You will always try your best, and sometimes you will fail. It does not make your effort any less, does not make you any less.”

“But why, why do they die?” She whimpered, staring up at him.

“Because some must die. However unnatural their deaths are, it is meant to happen.”

“My dad, a little girl, so many children, like that-”

“It is beyond your control. Strive, and sometimes you will succeed. Never stop.”

She nodded, the numbness receding. The pain still throbbed, still burned her heart, but it's claws had withdrawn, allowing her to breath without the sharp needles pushing into her heart.

“Thank you,” She whispered.

“You're welcome.”

The door they had come through opened, and she quickly stood, moving away from him. He stood fluidly, the knees of his slacks grayed with dust. He didn't seem to notice or care.

“You two alright?” The man asked as he came closer.

“Fine, thank you, Seido. We've finished.”

“Anytime. Miss, hope to see you again sometime. He can't shoot worth a damn, you need some proper lessons,” The man said with a nod.

“I believe the last time we compared targets, I won,” Sesshoumaru said in a silky voice as he walked past the man.

“How did you know that would help?” She asked as they got back into the car.

“You've spent your entire adult life striving to save others. Sometimes people have destructive impulses, anger, that they need to get out before the wound can begin to heal,” He replied as he pulled out of the lot and onto the road. His tone was strange, and she looked to him, wanting to ask if he knew from experience, if he had gone to the range and let his own anger pour out, but stopped herself.

“Sesshoumaru?”

“Yes?”

“What now?”

He was quiet for several minutes, obviously sensing that she wasn't referring to where he was driving, but what was going on.

“You are engaged to my brother. What we did, it was an end to what started at the hotel. I believe you termed it a 'last fling'.”

She was silent. Could it be that easy, to just box it away, as if it had never happened?

“Alright.”

“Do you feel up to seeing my father and Izayoi?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I'd like to go home. Why were you two at the hospital today?”

“Father wants to make a donation in honor of your engagement.”

She tried not to flinch at the undercurrent of tension in his words.

A final fling. It would fade. She would marry. It would fade. They would forget.

Just a fling. The strangeness would go away, the awkward tension. It was over, and she had to go forward. Just a fling, just a mistake.

She would forget.

 _________________________________________

AN: I'm sorry this chapter was so depressing. I really hated writing it. But it just sort of...vomited itself out of me. Part of it is that Mana's dad (we visited) came in really shell shocked from work during the x-mas get together, and experienced something similar, only megatons worse. There are things in here that are not medically accurate, and it's for a reason. One, it's a story, and two, the actual research turned into something sort of like seppeku by spork. Oh, and forgetting? Pfft. Hahahahaha.

Sexiness will resume in: 5...4...3...2...(Okay, I'm serious, I'm posting these almost simultaneously, it's there. CLICK THE BUTTON!)


	5. Dialogue

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Five: Dialogue**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:**  Lemon Cherry Tart

**This is proof positive I love all of you, now I do need to haul a** back to the family, so I promise I will respond to all reviews sometime tonight or tomorrow. And I'm sorry if it's kind of stilted. I initially wasn't going to post this much today, but I can't be a jerk and leave you hanging with that last chapter either.**

**_________________________________________**

She stretched, allowing herself to appreciate the burn of her muscles. Wet hair trailed down her back as she tilted her head back and stood on tiptoe to stretch her calves.

“You got some good times in,” Sango commented as her head emerged from behind her. “Left me in the dust.”

“I've been putting in more time at the pool lately,” She admitted as they headed for the lockers, toweling off as they went.

“Wedding stress?”

“Not really, Inu Yasha's family is really amazing. Izayoi's a lot nicer than I thought she would be. I still can't believe Inu Yasha called her a pushover, the woman's a battle ax,” She laughed, thinking of how Izayoi had subtly, but thoroughly, rebuked her son for being absent when she had been in the middle of a crisis. “It's his dad that's a pushover, especially for his wife, and me, now that I think about it.”

“Sounds like you've been accepted into the fold,” Sango laughed as she opened her locker and pulled out her bra and panties. “So what's got you swimming so much lately?”

“It's sort of a long story,” She sighed, unsure if she should even broach the topic. But three weeks had passed, and she was going crazy. Only twice had she seen Sesshoumaru, and both times he had been genial, but distant. And she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. Especially in light of Inu Yasha's absences. More and more her fiance was taking over business meetings held out of the city, or missed dinners. He hadn't attempted to make love to her, and even more disturbing was that she wasn't sure if she wanted him to.

“Girl's day is for long stories,” Sango snorted as she shimmied her pants up her hips. “Besides, we missed last month's for that one operation, and I fully intend to enjoy a good tea.”

“If only Miroku knew what was in your tea,” She said as she pulled her shirt over her head.

“He knows. And he's entirely too happy to deal with me after I've had a few,” Her friend laughed as she pulled her still damp hair into a messy bun and shouldered her gym bag. Shouldering her own, she followed her friend out of the locker room and past the pool, mind going back to her fiance's half brother. A sigh escaped as they stepped outside, and she looked to the sky, wondering if she was going crazy.

“That's a hell of a sound. What's on your mind?”

“I might be able to talk about it after one of your teas.”

“You're actually willing to drink one of my teas?” Sango asked, voice colored by her surprise. “Geez, the last time that happened, well, I can't remember actually.”

“When I admitted to finally losing my virginity,” She pointed out dryly.

“Must be big.”

Understatement.

They continued their walk to the apartment building and took the elevator up to the apartment Sango shared with her fiance. It was a mess, with books and papers everywhere, as per Sango's style, with bits of order in the chaos, which hinted at Miroku's presence.

“So do I get any hints about what it is?” The surgeon asked as she grabbed two bottles from the freezer and closed it with her shoulder. Kagome watched her silently begin pouring into two glasses, and then grab another bottle from the fridge, mixing some more of the concoction. A third bottle from the freezer topped the drinks off, and she stirred with a hastily grabbed spoon.

“Living room,” Sango told her.

She accepted the glass and followed, sitting in the comfy recliner across from her friend, who lounged on the sofa. Inhaling deeply, she tipped the glass back and swallowed a big gulp.

“I forgot that these were good,” She murmured.

“Probably because of the hangover you ended up with,” Sango chuckled as she took another deep gulp, and then another. Half of the glass was gone and she sat the glass down on the coffee table, staring at her friend intently.

“You said everyone has a wild side,” She began, wishing the alcohol would work more quickly.

“Well, yeah. Is this about that list?”

“Sort of,” She mumbled, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I kind of lied to Miroku about what it was for.”

“Meaning?”

“Inu Yasha, he wanted to try something before we got engaged. He said it wouldn't be right after, and I gave in, you know, as long as I could do it too.” She congratulated herself sarcastically for her utter lack of clarity. Sango waited patiently as she tried to gather her thoughts, a courtesy the woman normally wouldn't give without some form of commentary.

“I slept with someone else,” She blurted. It was not the carefully worded explanation she had been going over in her head, and she groaned, thumping her head back and wishing the soft cushioning was a wall

Sango's eyes widened, and then she relaxed and smiled.

“Is that it?”

“Isn't that enough?” She sputtered, shocked by her friend's casual acceptance of the half garbled declaration.

“I'll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes Miroku and I bring someone else in. I was really freaked out by it at first, partially because I was scared I wasn't enough, and also because I enjoyed it.”

This was not her friend, her college roommate, her fellow surgeon, saying these things. She knew Miroku was a deviant, but she had been sure it was mostly for show. The idea that it was real, that his jokes were actually cleverly told truths, shocked her. Even more, the idea of Sango going along with any of it, enjoying it, stupefied her. Not sure if one glass would be enough anymore, she took another deep swallow of the drink and sat it back down with trembling fingers.

“Look, I'm not saying you're a swinger. You and Inu Yasha decided to have a fling before you got engaged. I can understand where the urge would come in. You guys have been together for years. And have you ever slept with someone other than him?”

“Not until-” Suddenly she felt strangely ignorant, innocent in the face of her friend's casual, knowing smile.

“Everybody is a bit different. As long as you both consented, and you had a good time, don't worry.”

“But, I keep seeing him!” She groaned, reaching for the glass.

“As in sleeping with him?” Sango choked.

“No, maybe, argh, this is impossible!” She snapped impatiently, grabbing the glass and tipping it back until it was empty. When she finished, she inhaled deeply and walked back to the kitchen.

“How do you make these?” She called out. Sango came in and began pouring the bottles methodically, turning to her with concerned in her brown eyes. She accepted the glass and walked over to the bar, sitting on a stool.

“How about you start at the beginning," The other woman suggested, forehead creased in thought. Kagome wondered if it could be that easy. 

“We used this company, really discreet, anonymous profiles-”

“Oh, you used that place?” Sango asked, eyes widening.

“Well, I mean, yeah. Inu Yasha said it's really discreet, people use it to do what we did.”

“Miroku and I use it sometimes,” Sango chuckled. “I wonder if we looked at your profile.”

That was an uncomfortable thought. Was Sango one of the women that she had seen and immediately discarded? What if Sango had looked at hers?

“Either way, I set up a meeting. And it was, I just-” She stumbled over the words, unsure of how to admit to her friend that she had enjoyed the encounter.

“You can say it was good. The gods won't strike you down for it,” Her friend said in a matter of fact voice.

“It was, and that was supposed to be it. We didn't have sex, he just, you know-”

“I don't know,” He friend teased with a light smile. Unfortunately Sango's ease with the situation wasn't helping the convoluted tangle of thoughts in her own head.

“He went down on me,” She muttered, flushing hotly from embarrassment and the alcohol beginning to make itself known in her blood. “And it was good. That white scarf, the one you put in my hair?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It was the blindfold I wore for the meeting.”

“A blindfold? You know, we haven't done that-”

“Sango, please, I'm not sure if I can handle knowing you're a pervert too,” She groaned.

Her friend made a dismissive sound followed by a laugh. “We're not that bad, I promise. But so far, I don't see what's got you tied up in knots. It sounds like you had a really good partner and a good time.”

“I saw him again after that,” She admitted softly. “I never thought we'd meet in real life, and we did. And, we sort of-Finished.”

Sango was quiet for several minutes, eyes on her drink as she swirled it in her glass. In those tense moments, she waited for the ax to fall, waited for the reproachful, disapproving lecture.

“I can see where it would be difficult.”

“I still think about him sometimes,” She admitted in a small voice. “Inu Yasha has been distant ever since he, I mean, we haven't had sex since he gave me the ring. Am I being foolish?”

Sango sighed heavily and took a healthy swallow of her drink before setting it down.

“Kagome, there are things I do know. One, do not tell Inu Yasha. Normally I would tell you to opt for the truth, but in this case, I can honestly say don't. And as for the other man, have you slept with him since?”

“No. We both agreed it was a fling.”

“Then it's solved. You just finished what you started, and you've agreed it's over. And if you enjoyed yourself, then it's alright to think about it, especially when you're not getting any,” The woman added, tone lightening. “So, can you tell me about it?”

“I think I'd need a third before I could do that,” She muttered dryly from behind the rim of her glass before taking another deep drink from it. Sango's words did make her feel better, however. Someone accepting it so easily, understanding, soothed the fear that she was abnormal, a loose woman. Guilt was not completely absolved, but it was a distant thing that grew even more distant as her body warmed to the drink and her mind fuzzed and furred at the edges. Sango's lightness and impish grin were infectious, forcing the darkness away.

“Coming right up,” Sango laughed as she moved back into the kitchen and pulled down another glass, rapidly filling it and her own before setting one down on the bar counter.

“Sango-”

“Kagome, soon we'll both be married old biddies. Until then, live a little. Race ya'.”

Tipsy from the first drink and a half, she grabbed the full glass and shrugged. “Can't be any worse than sleeping with Se-a stranger,” She corrected hastily, throwing the glass back to cover the slip. Chugging as quickly as she could, she downed the glass between three deep inhales and gasped for air when she was finished. Sango was waiting, glass already down and a smirk on her lips.

“Even though you cheated, I still won,” She pointed out.

“Guess you're just a boozing floozy then,” She quipped smartly, earning a deep, throaty laugh from her friend, who grabbed both glasses and moved to refill them. The drinks splashed a little over the sides, giving away her state of inebriation.

“I think I'll be good with the rest of this,” She murmured, shaking the half full glass in front of her. The warmth of the alcohol making her feel lethargic and floaty, and she knew she was smiling despite herself.

“These are for me,” Sango laughed as she walked past her. “Come on, living room while you spill all about your adventure.”

Blushing hotly she followed, glass in hand, and took her place in the recliner again. Sango lounged indolently on the couch, looking comfortable and lazy, her smile hinting at her intoxication.

“So, spill.”

“I used the site, and clicked the interest button on his profile, you know?” She admitted, voice small at first.

“Yeah.”

“It was really brief, but he told me if I wanted the encounter, I would have to go lay down and think about it.”

“Oh, a dominant one,” Sango sighed happily.

“Yeah,” Kagome agreed, feeling slightly dreamy as she recalled that night. “What I imagined didn't even come close. Remember that day you asked if I had a sexy date?”

“I think so.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the room with a rush of heady warmth. Every time she'd thought about it before, she'd forced her mind away, gone swimming, practiced iaido, studied new procedures. But now she let her mind follow the memory, details rich and vivid as she spoke aloud, voice becoming more sure as she sunk into it.

“I went to the building, and the blindfold was waiting. I was nervous, but I put it on. When he came in, his voice was,” She shuddered, remembering his voice, allowing herself to take sensual delight in it. “Rich, warm, so smooth you could wrap yourself in it. When I realized he was there, I-I started acting so silly, so afraid. He made me sit and began giving me a massage-”

“Now I know where that massage suggestion came from,” Sango cut in, voice tinged with impish amusement, earning a breathless laugh in return.

“Yeah. His hands, he was so good at it. We moved to the bed and he took off my shirt. Sango, it was amazing, his hands were warm, rough. I can still feel the calluses, the ridges over my back,” She sighed happily, remembering the feel of Sesshoumaru's hands massaging the tension from her back. A shiver raced down her spine, goosebumps rising in it's wake. “He pampered me. We went slow, and he took a break to feed me fruit and wine. It was like something out of a romance novel, but with the blindfold, everything tasted so vivid, so bright. And when he kissed me-”

Sango groaned and hugged the pillow with one arm while she took another gulp of her drink. “Kagome, get to the good stuff,” She pouted, cheeks red and eyes bright.

“He kissed me. Such a good kisser,” She admitted, biting her lip as she thought about it. “And he started moving down. He knew all the right spots, kami. Down and down and down, his hair felt so good sliding over my skin.”

“Long hair?”

“Mmhmm, silky, hair we'd kill for. I wanted to touch him so bad, and he took off his shirt. Muscle everywhere, his skin was like silk over marble-”

“A god?” Sango chuckled.

“No, a beast,” She admitted. “When he went down there, I thought I was going to die. I've never, no one's ever done it like that before.”

“Finding a man good at eating pussy is like winning the lottery,” Sango agreed. “I had to show Miroku. 

She blushed at her friend's blunt honesty and the idea that Miroku of all people had to be taught about  _that_.

“It was so intense, so good. He didn't push for more, and I feel asleep cuddled up next to him. When I woke up, he was gone.”

Sango sat up, gaze considering.

“If you never saw his face, how do you know it was him?”

She took another swallow of her drink, noticed her glass was empty, and sat it down.

“You don't forget a voice like that,” She said with certainty. “I had no idea what the whole sound thing was about until I heard him. And the hair was a match length wise. He knew me too.”

“And how did you two find each other in the world?”

“Dinner. He heard me speak, saw the scarf in my hair and we just knew, you know?”

“Your hair?”

She nodded dumbly, slightly bewildered by Sango's sudden -slightly slurred- interest.

“The night I put it in your hair?”

Too late, she realized her mistake.

“Shit.”

“I knew it! You  _never_  curse. He was at the dinner where you met his parents. It wasn't his father was it? You didn't sleep with his father?”

“No,” She hissed, wishing she had a pillow to throw at her friend. “It wasn't just his parents.”

“Okay, good. Big dinner, how did you manage to, I mean, how did you make it through knowing, he was there?”

She was infinitely grateful Sango assumed it had been a big dinner. What bothered her was her friend's acceptance.

“It was awkward. But Inu Yasha left early, one of his friends was in trouble. I ended up going home with him. I was a wreck Sango, an utter wreck. Seeing him, my world just shattered.”

“Was he as handsome as you imagined?”

“Oh more,” She sighed. “He was angry, because I had lied about why I was looking for an encounter, said my husband and I were looking at things, fantasies. When I told him the truth, he was furious. He followed me up to my apartment. And the weird thing is, I was just as mad. I don't even understand it. I don't know why I let him in, why I didn't kick him out.”

“It sounds like you wanted to finish,” Her friend pointed out before draining her second glass.

“I dunno,” She slurred slightly. “He just took over, dragging me to the table and bending me over it and pulling up the dress. My stockings ripped before I tried to stop it. He cornered me in the kitchen. I don't even remember what I said, but I was goading him.”

“So what happened then, tell it right,” Her friend urged.

Relaxed again after her near slip, she leaned back and recalled his mouth over hers, eyes closing to savor the image of his eyes, hungry and angry at once. A shudder wracked her frame, and she felt her nipples tighten in response.

“He was teasing me there, and one hand was on the bun. When he tried to kiss me, I wouldn't let him, and he yanked on it, hard. When I tried to scream he started kissing me, just brutal, unlike any of the other kisses. He gave me a chance to back out, and I didn't want to, even though I was mad. He ripped my panties.”

Her friend moaned, although she barely noticed, recalling the onslaught of sensations her body had gone through as he'd pushed up her skirt and torn her panties away. The familiar wetness between her legs returned, urged by the heat of the alcohol. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to sooth the need for friction.

“Then he was pushing against me, teasing me. He was saying things-”

“What things?”

“He told me I was wet, that I wanted it,” She breathed, remembering his words and the darkness inside of her that had shivered at the sound of them. “God, he was so big, stretching me around him, filling me up. Hot-”

“What was hot?” Her friend goaded in a breathless moan.

“His cock,” She admitted, the dark other unfurling, escaping it's boundaries and slipping over her skin, a ghostly reminder of what he had felt like against her. “Hot, I could feel it throbbing in me. He pulled out, teased me. Told me to beg.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” She admitted, opening her eyes. Sango, bright eyed, lips open in a slight 'o', was laying on the couch, a hand down her pants.

“Please don't stop. This is really hot.”

It should have been surreal, should have been uncomfortable, but she nodded, gulping deeply, gasping in air.

“You can too,” Her friend added. “Promise I won't tell,” She chuckled.

Not really sure that she cared if her friend did tell, she nodded again, and unzipped her pants. Slowly she inched her hand beneath the waistband of her panties.

“He made you beg? Was he mean?”

“He was still so intense, like he was angry, but not. I don't know. I said please and he made me say exactly what I wanted. I begged him to fuck me, and he just said 'louder', barely pushing into me. I felt so empty, wanted it so bad.”

Her fingers were slipping over the wetness of her slit, pressed tight by the crotch of her pants. Impatiently she kicked them off, not surprised when Sango did the same before hugging the pillow and pushing her hand back into her panties, fingers moving slowly.

“You said it.”

“Mmm, screamed it. He pushed into me, kami, so thick, I could feel all of him, so big it hurt,” She admitted. “But it hurt so good, like I was on fire as he kept thrusting into me. His hands were so tight on my hips. I've never been that full, that needy. I was so close,” She whispered, eyes clenched tightly shut as she remembered the feel of his dick withdrawing from her pussy, teasing her again. Her finger circled her clit rapidly, the heat in her belly tightening.

“He pulled out, made me beg to come. Wanted it so bad,” She gasped, legs spreading as she lost herself completely to the memory. “I begged, fuck, he started pounding in and out of me, faster and faster, hitting that spot. Nnn, his cock was throbbing, pulsing, come so hot in me,” She moaned, the last words half strangled as she slipped a finger into her entrance, finding her spot and rubbing it with the pad of her finger. A sharp cry rose from her throat, turning into his name as her walls clenched around her finger, pulsed with pleasure.

Sango's low moan answered seconds later, drifting into the air to hang heavily before dissipating. Both of them panted heavily, hands still in their underwear as they recovered. Sango was the first to break the silence.

“Wow,” She sighed, flopping onto her back and throwing her arms over head head and stretching lazily. “Well, I can see why you think about it. That was amazing, and I was only getting it second hand.”

“Sango, was that weird?”

“Only if you think it's weird,” The other woman said, turning her head. “Are you alright?”

Surprisingly, she was. She remembered sharing a room with the other woman before, and their own furtive fumbling in the dark, trying to disguise what they were doing from each other. The habit had stayed even after they had gotten an apartment, for her at least. The rare times she had tried she had made sure the lights were out and the blankets thick over her body no matter how hot it had been. It was strangely freeing to do it in the open at last.

“Am I a bad person?”

“Not in the least. I'm actually kind of happy. Proof you're human like the rest of us. Besides, sounds like Inu Yasha's brother is pretty hot once you get the suit off,” Sango chuckled.

“What?” She gasped, the lazy daze clearing at the mention of her fiance's name.

“Like I'd miss the name screamed that loudly,” The other woman snorted. “Look, it was a one time thing. And you didn't know it was him at first, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't feel badly for it. You and Inu Yasha both agreed to a fling, right? That was a fling by definition, it just took longer than most to finish. And definitely don't feel bad for thinking about it, especially since Inu Yasha has been holding out.”

“Sex wasn't a big deal before-” She was about to say his name, and she wasn't sure she could without choking.

“Maybe he just woke up your wild side. Maybe it'll work out. Inu Yasha obviously had a fantasy he thought you wouldn't be okay with. It could be that this is a chance to explore that.”

There was a very bitter irony to that statement, one she wasn't going to admit to. And the uncomfortable thought that she hadn't been as interested in sex before because of an unknown 'wild side' was something she didn't want to examine too closely.

“Kagome, as your friend, I have something I have to tell you,” The other woman said, sitting up and face sobering.

“What?” She breathed, heart skipping a beat.

“You-” She paused for dramatic affect.

“What?”

“Might be kinky,” Sango crowed, laughing and throwing the pillow she'd been holding at her. Catching it, she made a sound that would have been angry had it not been for the laughter echoing in it as she lunged from the chair, over the coffee table and tackled her friend, who was already waiting with one of the couch cushions. A drunken pillow fight ensued, an echo of days when they had both been younger. Fear and tension and guilt faded in the face of the younger self that was recalled, easing her burden.

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A/N: Okay, there is a reason for everything I write. Keep in mind I don't approve of cheating, which to me is essentially lying, by omission or outright deception. Both are very bad for relationships (duh). This story is not something I would encourage in real life. But, hey, it's fiction. And smut. Don't take it seriously. Please. Just, you know, enjoy. Merry whatever-you-celebrate. And review, because it is the holiday season.


	6. Fetish

Impotence, fetishism, bisexuality, and bondage are all facts of life, and our fiction should reflect that. -Rick Moody

 

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Six: Fetish**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:** Lime Sprite

Because I maintain that this is completely and thoroughly R0o's fault, she's found her way into the story while I wasn't looking. Other people might over time, no idea. However, I have been kind enough to translate R0o's name. The first person that finds her and reviews it gets a one shot, topic of their choosing. (Can I do that? I didn't see anything about it in the rules, just about soliciting reviews. I'm soliciting an _answer_.) Also, the volunteer trip mentioned is an actual volunteering program you can do. You'd be amazed at the awesome things you can volunteer for overseas. Look into it, you might find a way to get out of country and experience something amazing.

This also brings my update bombs to a close. Six chapters in about 24 hours is enough, right ? Lol. Thanks again for such a wonderful first Christmas here on Dokuga guys. 

 _____________________________________

Izayoi waved from her spot in the restaurant, and Touga nodded once, a smile tilting up the corners of his lips. Trying not to feel out of place in her jeans and shirt, she walked over and sat herself, offering a small hello in way of greeting.

“Inu Yasha is on his way, he had some loose ends to tie up at the office. How have you been dear?” Izayoi asked.

Since talking with Sango, she had felt better about her experience, and while her own emotional conflict hadn't completed died, she was finding she had a better grasp on it. That she had barely seen either Sesshoumaru or Inu Yasha since had helped.

“Fine. Things have been a bit hectic, I've been preparing for a conference presentation,” She admitted. The presentation itself was a huge opportunity to speak on her current research into other methods of relieving pressure from brain swelling, research she had taken up the day after losing the little girl so suddenly. The facts and numbers comforted her, allowed her to push through the remaining traces of guilt.

“When is it?” Touga asked, curious.

“In a little over a week. I'm flying to Kochi on the eighth.”

“Impressive, you're presenting?” Izayoi asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, a fellow surgeon and I have been looking into-anyway, it's surgeon talk,” She laughed, leaving off on the topic she knew they wouldn't understand. “How have you both been?”

“We've been pulling together concepts for an engagement party where you both can make a public appearance. Touga's been fighting off his business partners by telling them surgeons have more important things to do than attend parties,” Izayoi chuckled.

“Silly bunch of buffoons in suits anyway,” The older man growled playfully, his hand going to his wife's and covering it. She noticed his thumb rubbing circles absentmindedly, and tried not to stare.

“Touga's affectionate, even though it's rude,” Izayoi chuckled as her husband leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Silly male.”

“It's alright, I can pretend you don't like it,” He chuckled as he pulled away. “We've been trying to nail down a date for the party. Is there any particular time you can't?”

“Except for the conference, any time is fine. My boss has been,” She paused, trying not to sound crude, but the truth would sound the same no matter how she said it. “Very happy with me lately.” She gave her future father in law a pointed look.

Touga blinked obliquely, then threw his head back and laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of people seated around them. After several minutes he quieted and wiped the corner of his eye, smile showing an impressive array of white teeth.

“My, well, never let it be said that it's not earned,” He chuckled, still smiling widely. “We've got a tentative date set for next week, since the big social calenders have nothing planned. I think we can have everything ready by then.”

“A week?”

“Touga is very good at planning parties. I thought he might be using me as a cover when we first met,” Izayoi mock whispered. “He's got impeccable taste in clothes too. I thought he was one of those sorts of men-”

Touga growled low in his throat, eyes narrowing on his wife playfully.

“Those sorts of men?” Kagome asked, confused.

“The kind that takes a wife to cover for any deviant activities,” Izayoi chuckled, making her flush. Touga rolled his eyes, signaling that he'd heard his wife say such before. “The hair, the style, the intelligence. You have to agree it's hard enough to find all of that in one package, but in a heterosexual male,” The woman added, brows raising.

The first thing that came to mind was, damnably, Sesshoumaru. She could see him being mistaken for a gay male. Except there was no way he was. The blush burned her cheeks, earning a laugh from Izayoi.

“Wife, you've managed to embarrass her. Congratulations,” Touga drawled, looking slightly embarrassed himself, red dusting his tan cheeks.

“It's alright,” Kagome said, forcing a smile to her face. “I've leaned that appearances can be deceiving.”

The married couple stilled, eyes widening for a moment, and she could feel their sudden tension seeping into the room, blocking out the sound.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked at last, hoping she hadn't stumbled over any boundaries. Social etiquette wasn't her strong suit, and she tried to check the statement for any possible insinuations, yet could find nothing.

“Nothing dear,” Izayoi said, visibly, forcibly relaxing herself. “So next Saturday is alright?”

“I can make sure I have the time off,” She agreed.

“We'll get the family together then. Nothing too big. Maybe we can take some time to go shopping, bring the men along as our pack mules.”

She tried to picture Inu Yasha as a pack mule. He'd never gone shopping with her before, and she couldn't imagine him starting any time soon. Likewise, she couldn't picture Touga carrying bags of clothes.

“Hey everyone,” Inu Yasha greeted form behind her. She turned and the smile she was forcing faded when she saw his disgruntled expression.

“Hello,” She greeted, trying to keep her voice warm even though he sat down next to her, almost plopping into the chair without even pecking her on top of the head as he had once done. They hadn't seen each other in several days, and while she hadn't noticed because of her immersion in medical cases and reports, she wished he'd give her some sort of physical acknowledgment.

“Sorry I'm late, paperwork has been crazy.”

His parents said nothing, and the table was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Your parents mentioned a party next Saturday night,” Kagome said, forcing a smile to her face. “With your family.”

“Sounds good,” He said, nodding as he grabbed a menu and scanned it.

“Kagome, do you have to work today?”

“No, I worked early this morning and barring any emergencies, I'm free for the day.”

“Wonderful. Husband, son,” Izayoi said, voice hardening slightly. “You're off for the rest of the day. After lunch we're going shopping.”

“I-” Inu Yasha began, stopping when he saw his mother's expression. “Okay. Shopping sounds good.”

She wondered again why he had ever called his mother a pushover.

The rest of lunch passed filled with Izayoi's chatter, and her half forced responses.

“Would you like to invite your family, Kagome?” Izayoi suddenly asked. “I feel so silly for not thinking of it before. I apologize for my rudeness.”

“It's fine. My mother is currently overseas doing volunteer work, and my brother is in college in California,” She explained.

“Volunteer work overseas?”

“She's helping with marine conservation in Thailand for the next several weeks,” She explained.

“That sounds exciting,” Izayoi breathed. “And she's doing it as a volunteer?”

“After my brother went to college and my grandfather passed, she wanted more to occupy her time, and began volunteering. A friend mentioned going to Africa. She's traveled a lot since that first trip,” She said with a smile, thinking of her strong willed mother. The woman was barely ever in Japan anymore, and she had gushed over the beauty of Thailand as much, if not more than the announced engagement.

“I'd like to meet her, she sounds like an amazing woman,” Izayoi said, eyes taking on a dreamy quality. “I don't think I'd mind volunteer work like that.”

“She'll be back sometime in July,” Kagome offered as they stood and began walking out, glad Izayoi came up next to her while the men walked behind them, speaking quietly between themselves.

“Did you take your car here?”

“Bus, I don't have a car.”

“I suppose I can understand, Inu Yasha mentioned you lived close to the hospital.”

“It makes it easier in case of emergency calls,” She admitted. “Several doctors live in my building, actually.”

“Will you continue to live there once you're married?”

“Hello no,” Inu Yasha butted in. “My apartment is bigger, nicer.”

A move hadn't even occurred to her, and she called herself an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. Although Inu Yasha's automatic response pricked at her temper for more than one reason. They hadn't discussed it, and he lived in the proverbial bachelor pad across town. Getting to work on a normal day would take forever with a car or using public transportation, and in an emergency it would be a nightmare.

“We'll find a place somewhere in between,” She said with a smile to Izayoi, who nodded in understanding as they walked outside and through the parking lot. She followed Inu Yasha to his car and got in, watching Izayoi and Touga get in their own car, one much more subtle than Inu Yasha's fire red convertible.

“I'm not leaving my place,” He muttered as he started the car.

“I need to be closer than that to the hospital,” She sighed. “Somewhere in between should be fine.”

“I'm not moving out of my place, it took forever to find it,” He snapped impatiently as he screeched out of the parking lot after his parents. She sighed, grateful he was forced to follow for once instead of speeding to his destination.

“We'll figure something out,” She sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest.

“Nothing to figure out,” He muttered. She said nothing, merely closed her eyes and waited for the ride to be over.

When they arrived, she almost lunged out of the car, desperate to get away from her fiance and into fresh air. Schooling her expression into one of delight, a herculean task, she walked over to Izayoi and Touga, both of whom looked as if they'd come out of having their own fight.

“The men can be pack mules later dear, let's go get some shopping done,” Izayoi said with a bright smile as she met her halfway and took her arm in her own. She almost stumbled trying to keep up with the woman, who was wearing high hells and managing to walk faster than she was in sneakers. The heels themselves clicked angrily on the ground, venting some unknown anger as she was fairly drug along.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally asked, as they were stepping into the boutique itself. It was a store that she knew was out of her price range, but Izayoi's anger far outweighed her own worries about budgeting.

“When you marry, it doesn't erase the differences. There are still little quarrels, especially when you begin raising children. Touga and I were having a disagreement. It's nothing you did dear.”

“Oh.”

Izayoi heaved a sigh and relaxed slightly, some of the tension seeping out of her shoulders. Then she smiled gently at Kagome.

“You know, I always wanted a daughter. Perhaps you can let me spoil you a bit today, to make up for lost time,” She asked, eyes reflecting hopeful expectation.

She was willing to do almost anything to distract the woman from her fury, so she nodded.

“Wonderful. Doresu is known for her dresses. Let's find something that will make you shine.”

She was taken to the back, the haughty dark haired, long legged Doresu called for, and before she knew it, she was stripped to her underwear in front of the women, both of whom looked slightly astonished.

“You have the perfect shoulders and waist,” Doresu murmured thoughtfully, walking a circle around her. “I just finished a dress, and your coloring suits it. Especially your eyes. Wait here,” The woman said, leaving the back without looking back.

“If that's what swimming and iaido do, I'm going to have to take them up,” Izayoi chuckled.

“You can't be more than a size bigger than me,” She mumbled, blushing hotly at being examined so openly.

“Here it is. You'll need different underthings, and no bra,” Doresu said as she came back in, the curtain of the door swishing behind her. The dress in her hand was, in a word, gorgeous.

And too revealing by half.

“I'm not sure I could wear it-” She stuttered, looking at the halter dress with it's non existent back.

“Nonsense,” Izayoi admonished. “It's classic. Try it on dear.”

With fumbling fingers, she removed her bra as undid the buttons and positioned the dress for her to step into. The dark blue silk slid up her body like water, cool and smooth as began adjusting the front with impersonal hands, shifting the front of the dress over her breasts before telling her to hold it. Then the neck came up, and she felt something being pinned her buttoned in place.

“Let go now,” Doresu commanded. She did, and to her relief, the dresses stayed on, even though it felt like she was wearing a thin film of flowing water that swung around her legs where the skirt flared out. The lack of a back was barely noticeable when compared to the actual lightness of the fabric. If anything, she was hardly aware of the skirt beginning just a few inches above her tailbone.

“With the right hair and jewelry, she'll look like a movie star,” The dress maker commented. “Spin.”

She spun, and the skirt flared out and spun with her, light as air. Unable to prevent a giggle escaping, she stopped, loving how the skirt continued until the fabric pulled taught, and then relaxed again. Half tempted to spin one more time, she forced her feet to stay still as the other women looked at her thoughtfully.

“We'll definitely need the right undergarments. The panties you're wearing now have a line,” Izayoi said. “And shoes, earrings. A necklace is out of the question, but bracelets would not go amiss.”

“Closed pumps, something to show off her ankles.”

“Well, that settles it. Kagome, you and I have another shop to visit. I will admit I'm a little put out. I had hoped we'd spend forever trying to find a dress. It's always more fun that way.”

“We still need to find you a dress,” Kagome offered as unbuttoned the halter and helped her step out of it. Immediately she went for her bra and began dressing, slightly flustered as Doresu commented how she would kill for her body.

“Oh no, Touga always picks my dresses,” Izayoi chuckled. “Husband's privilege. It's part of the reason I was looking forward to our little trip. He'll come by here, speak with , who no doubt is already thinking of something. I know the most wonderful little lingerie shop just down the street, you'd adore it.”

Izayoi continued rambling, chatting about everything and nothing as they stepped out and down the street. Her own mother and she had never been much for shopping, both being so busy with their own pursuits, and she couldn't help but find pleasure in shopping with Izayoi, who seemed just as happy to have a daughter to shop with at last.

The lingerie shop was intimidating from the moment they stepped in. Far from what she had expected, there was only a desk in a small room. She assumed the rest was in the back.

“We're here for a fitting for my future daughter in law,” Izayoi said, smiling widely. The woman nodded, smiling genially as she greeted them and picked up the phone on her desk, pressing a button and saying only that Izayoi and a guest were there. Within seconds the door opened and a very beautiful woman with tanned skin and vivid brown eyes welcomed Izayoi with a kiss on her cheek.

She was flustered when the woman repeated the gesture with her while clasping her hands.

“Hello, I'm Tourou. Welcome to my shop,” She greeted warmly, taking her hand and leading her back. Izayoi followed behind and they walked down a small corridor. There were only three doors, one on each side, and one in the far back. Tourou opened the door to the left and Kagome walked in, surprised to find it almost as empty as the front of the store had been. There was a three way mirror, a small platform, and a table, along with two chairs..

“She's going to need something for a silk dress. Very sheer on the underwear, no bra,” Izayoi told the woman. “And the dress is dark blue.”

“I'll be back in a moment,” Tourou said with a smile as she left them alone.

“Not what you expected, is it?” Izayoi chuckled as Kagome tried to figure out what to do.

“No,” She admitted, flushing under the other woman's knowing stare.

“Tourou is very discreet, and has many different kinds of clientele. She's known for her discerning eye.”

She wasn't sure what to feel about that, or how to interpret it for that matter, so she kept silent, eyes still moving around the room aimlessly when Tourou walked back in, a garment bag in one hand.

“I have found a few items that should suit,” She said as she laid the bag on the table and unzipped it, revealing hangars with different items on it. “Would you like to undress?”

“I'm not sure-”

“Kagome, we're all women here,” Izayoi laughed lightly. “But if needs be, I can leave.”

What to do? Izayoi obviously didn't care, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tourou didn't. Shrugging, she forced her own embarrassment down, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of Izayoi. Quickly she shed her clothing, and Tourou clucked her tongue and shook her head at the sight of the bra and panties.

“They are plain, aren't they?” Izayoi asked. “Kagome, I know it's not practical for work, but all women should have nice underthings.” It was an admonishment, but a kind one. The lightness of it didn't stop her from blushing however. She did have nice underthings. Granted, not as nice as what she saw laying innocently in the bag, but she did have some. Not that she'd had the urge to wear any of them lately, or the need for that matter.

“I think you should go in the back and find a few things for her while she changes,” Izayoi giggled, flushing brightly.

“Oh, Izayoi I-”

“Will accept them gracefully,” The woman said with an impish smile. “The works, Tourou.”

The woman nodded and left the room, allowing her to finish stripping down to nothing but her bra. She looked at the bag. Two different pairs of panties, and three kinds of thigh highs, along with garters, and a garter belt of such insubstantial lace she was sure it was meant merely as decoration.

“Depending on your plans, the garter belt goes on over or under the panties. Men generally prefer under,” Izayoi giggled.

She reached for a pair of panties, the light blue lace appealing to her need for something, anything that wasn't made for a night of seduction. The black was just too daunting. After pulling them on, she anxiously clasped her hands together, trying to keep them from covering her groin. The waist band arched high on both sides, and dipped low in front and back, making her wonder how it could even be considered proper underwear. And if she was ever going to be able to look her future mother in law in the eye again.

“I think those will work fine,” Izayoi said. “Try the belt and the stockings.”

Flushing, she did as asked and opened the lacy light blue belt that matched the panties, fiddling with it for a moment. She'd never worn one before, but she'd seen plenty of pictures of women who had while looking through lingerie catalogs. Those women had always been much sexier than her, at least she'd always felt so. The silky thigh highs came next, sheer and light as air as she slid them up her legs. Awkwardly she slid the buttons into place on the tops, slightly amazed that there was barely any elastic to speak of.

“They are a wonder, aren't they? Tourou designed them, and has them manufactured under an exclusivity contract. Now, I'm fairly certain that those will work well beneath the dress.”

The door opened, and she stopped her hands from going in front of her groin to cover the panties with a sheer force of will that would have impressed her under other circumstances.

“I knew I got your size correct. Here, this should be a good start,” Tourou said, laying three garment bags down on the table and opening them one by one. Blue eyes widened in incredulity when she saw the array of lace, satin, silk and other materials revealed.

“I think that will do nicely. She needs to make sure the bras fit though,” Izayoi murmured.

“They are all my brand. If one fits, the rest will,” Tourou assured her.

“You're never wrong.”

“Rarely,” The other woman rebutted with an impish smile.

“Thank you, we'll be out in a few moments.”

Tourou left, allowing Kagome to breathe a little easier.

“This one matches what you're wearing now. How about you try it on,” Izayoi prompted, handing her a light blue bra that looked like it couldn't support an a cup, and though she was not so well endowed as Sango, she doubted it would support her. However, she shrugged off her own bra and accepted the one Izayoi held out.

“I'll let you finish in private. If it fits, just put it with the other things,” Izayoi told her. Kagome nodded, grateful she was being left alone at last.

The lace felt decadent against her breasts, and she turned to the mirror, and saw herself from three angles, all three reflections flushing from the tops of her breasts to the roots of her hair.

The light blue did nothing to stop it from looking or feeling sensual. In the years since she'd become sexually active, she'd picked up the odd matching set of lingerie here and there, only a few each year because Inu Yasha had never seemed impressed. But the set she was wearing brought out the flush of her cheeks and the color of her eyes, even her skin looked smoother, paler.

She felt sexy, and it startled her to realize what a difference undergarments alone could make. Briefly she wondered what it would feel like to wear them beneath the dress, to feel them while everyone around her walked about, oblivious. Spinning, she looked at her derriere, feeling more than pleased with the image. Perhaps the underwear wasn't as strange as she'd thought.

Resolving to bring Sango on a girl's day, or even on another trip with Izayoi, she began taking everything off and placing it on the table. Giddy, she finally allowed a giggle to escape as she ran her fingers over the vast array of colorful items. Blues, greens, blacks, whites, even yellows. Not one pink or red article of clothing to be found, and she couldn't help but wonder at Tourou's perception. She hadn't even mentioned disliking the colors. Shrugging it off, she began dressing, almost hesitant to don the plain underwear again.

When she finally stepped back into the waiting room, she blushed under Tourou and Izayoi's inquiring gazes.

“Everything fits,” She mumbled shyly

“I thought so. Were there any additional colors, items that you might want?” Tourou asked politely.

“No, everything you found, the colors are perfect,” She added with a small, shy smile. “Thank you.”

“It seems you finally have that daughter you've always wished for,” Tourou chuckled as Izayoi picked up her purse. “I'll have everything taken to the address you provided.”

“Thank you again. Now Kagome, shoes, and jewelry. Perhaps a purse, although you won't need one for the party, a girl needs a full matching outfit,” The woman added with an airy laugh as they exited the shop.

While Kagome was looking at the massive collection of blue shoes in front of her, shocked to realize that there was only one of each style, Izayoi's phone rang and she answered it. Immediately she knew it was her future father in law, and Izayoi gave their location. Wondering what could have taken Inu Yasha and his father so long, she sat down and looked up at the selection.

How was she supposed to choose?

“Jakotsu, I need your help now,” Izayoi said, voice raised. They were the only ones in the shop, and a voice called something out from the back before walking into the show room.

“Izayoi, one of my favorite ladies. And who is this beautiful young thing?” A man, at least she assumed it was a man, asked. The voice was strangely pitched, and she would swear that he was wearing makeup.

“This is my future daughter in law. We're finally having the engagement party-”

“Oh, tell me it's for Sesshoumaru,” Jakotsu pouted.

“Afraid not, Inu Yasha is going off the market,” Izayoi giggled, making the man pout even more. It cinched it, the man was gay, not that she was bothered by it. However, she did hope he didn't take an instant dislike to her for being engaged to Inu Yasha.

“My favorite bad boy, getting all mixed up with a nice girl,” The shoe salesman sighed. “Well, there are always others. Now, blue?” He added airily, switching gears quickly.

“Her dress is dark blue silk, the stockings are light blue, and I'm thinking silver for jewelry.”

“Contrast. Let's go for something different. Maybe cream, especially if you're going to use silver jewelry,” The man said, tapping his chin with a long, well manicured nail. “Black would be too dark, especially with her coloring and the stockings.”

Who was going to be looking at her shoes?

“What's the dress like?”

“Oh, very classic,” Izayoi sighed happily. “Think of the american movies made in the fifties, ballroom dancing-”

“I have the perfect thing,” Jakotsu exclaimed happily, walking over to another wall and pulling down a high heeled pump. The spike of the heel alone made her worry as she watched him come over with it. When he showed it to Izayoi, she noticed that it was a platform, allaying some of her fears.

“Very nice, and it will go nicely with the dark blue. What about the light blue though?”

“It will be fine. Besides, it'll reflect the color a bit, so it shouldn't be a problem.”

“The platform is completely hidden, and without those ugly seams you see on so many others that try. Kagome, would you like to try these on?”

She nodded, knowing throughout the whole of the day, she hadn't really had a choice. To be fair, she wasn't complaining. Izayoi's taste far outmatched her own, and the woman was intent on paying for everything.

“Let me see your feet,” Jakotsu murmured. Kagome slipped her shoes and socks off, surprised when Jakotsu almost cooed as he picked one up, his smooth hand running under her arch lightly.

“It's a shame you don't treat your toenails better. You should get a pedicure. Your toes are so cute.”

She was definitely feeling a little uncomfortable.

The door opened behind them and she turned, grateful to see both Inu Yasha and Touga, even if both of them looked like they were chewing on nails.

“Well, you two are lucky, so far everything is being delivered to Kagome,” Izayoi told them. “Although I think she's taking these shoes home today.”

“Shoes?” Jakotsu murmured, then brightened. “Oh, forgive me. You're about a size, six and a half,” He murmured before standing and going to the back, the silver shoe still in hand.

“How is it everyone we've gone to has sized on sight?” Kagome asked, dumbfounded that he had gotten her size right.

“Experience dear. And if you hadn't noticed, Jakotsu has a bit of a foot fetish,” Her future mother in law added with a cat like grin.

“Fucking freak,” Inu Yasha muttered, earning a gasp from her and an outraged sound from his mother.

“Inu Yasha, you will not say such things about others,” Touga snapped impatiently, ire more than evident.

“Fucking fine.”

“And watch your mouth.”

She had a feeling she was missing something. Whatever they had been talking about had obviously made both of them angry, but it was more than that. Even Izayoi looked angry, and not at her husband.

“Found them,” Jakotsu sing songed as he came back to the show room, a box in hand. “Now, oh, Inu Yasha,” He sighed, voice turning wistful and breathy as the other man's name crossed his lips. “Naughty, I've heard you were getting married.”

“Yeah, what of it?” Inu Yasha snapped impatiently.

“I'll be sad to see you go. But if you ever decide a woman's touch is too gentle-”

“That's it, bye,” Her fiance snarled as he made his exit, the door slamming behind him. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and everyone was silent, eyes on the door. Then their gazes swung to her, and she put on a brave smile despite the fact that her fiance had just made himself look like a bigoted moron, and in turn, possibly her as well.

“Oh, I thought he knew I was teasing,” Jakotsu began, looking flustered and ready to cry, tears welling up in his vivid eyes. Instantly she felt bad for the man, and wanted to allay his fears.

“It's nothing,” Izayoi said. “He's been under some stress lately. Part of it is the realization that he's getting married. Some men panic and it takes them some time to stop acting like it's the end of the world.”

“I'm sorry miss,” Jakotsu sniffed, turning to her. “I don't see him that often, and he blushes the cutest shade of red when I tease. I didn't think what I said would upset him that much.”

“Inu Yasha is Inu Yasha,” She sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. “Besides, he is cute when he's embarrassed,” She agreed with a small smile.

As if her agreement had soothed the fear woken by her fiance's departure, Jakotsu became bright and bubbly again, kneeling on the floor at her feet and slipping the shoe on. She wondered at the almost bipolar shift of demeanor, mentally listing from the sudden change.

“Perfect fit. I knew it. These will be perfect for dancing,” He sighed happily as she held her feet up for inspection. “You do have the perfect feet. Izayoi, please bring her back.”

“I suppose my size seven feet have been replaced?” Izayoi sighed in amusement, her brow raised in a mixture between chagrin and mock resignation.

“Oh, never! I just have two pairs of feet to plan for now,” He retorted, his grin nothing less than pleased.

She wasn't sure how to feel about it, so she said nothing, wisely she thought.

“Perhaps another pair Kagome, and do you have anything in mind for me?” Izayoi asked primly.

“Oh do I,” He said, voice gaining volume as he stood and raced to the back.

“I forget how much women love shoes.”

She owned six pairs total, if the flip flops weren't counted.

By the time half an hour had passed, that number had more than doubled. She wasn't even sure what she would wear the new shoes with, but Izayoi and Jakotsu both insisted that they were staples of a good wardrobe.

Touga looked highly amused, and only nodded when his opinion was asked, tapping away at his phone from time to time.

The door dinged, and she turned, hoping it was her fiance, returned and apologetic. It was not. In fact, it was the last person she was expecting.

“Sesshoumaru, what are you doing here?” Izayoi asked, genuine surprise coloring her words as she let her feet, feet clad in two hundred dollar pumps, drift back to the floor.

“It was subtly hinted that as an old man, my father might not be sufficiently strong enough to carry your bags,” He intoned quietly. While Touga made a snorting sound that hinted at exasperation, Izayoi gave a delighted giggle.

“I was holding off on some because I didn't want to burden your father, but now that you're here, you can carry Kagome's bags,” She said happily, obviously pleased. His gold eyes gave the floor around them a pointed glance, and she couldn't help but flush. What did he think of her, did he know Izayoi was insisting on paying for everything, did he think she was taking advantage of her future relations?

She hoped not, desperately.

“Your step mother finally has the daughter she has always wanted, although she's been treating her somewhat like a doll.”

“I have not,” Izayoi huffed, although not without a smile. “Kagome needs pampering, and I need a girl to shop with. Besides, she'd never buy them for herself, I can tell.”

If she had been flushing before, she was burning now.

“Izayoi, you are a one woman show,” Sesshoumaru finally chuckled, going to sit by his father as Jakotsu came out with yet another stack of boxes in his arms. “Relax Kagome, when she wants to do something, she does it. Better to just sit back and let it happen.”

“Did she get you in six inch pumps too?” She asked innocently, flustered by his genial tone and warm smile.

Touga, Izayoi and Jakotsu all burst into laughter, and his eyes narrowed slightly, although a smirk played on his lips.

“No, although she has tried to get me to her stylist.”

“Yura would maim to get at your hair,” Izayoi sighed. “She still hasn't forgiven me for failing.”

“Give her Kagome.”

As if she was a possession.

“How long is your hair?” Izayoi asked. “I don't think I've ever seen it down.”

“I did once,” Touga teased his wife, winking at Kagome. She wondered when he had, and realized it was the day she'd seen him at the hospital. It had become habit to keep it in a bun or ponytail, although she hadn't realized it.

“Oh, tell me Touga,” Izayoi huffed.

Even Jakotsu threw out a few guesses, and by the end of it, Touga was smirking and Izayoi was pouting, back turned to her husband as she threatened to buy the whole shoe store. Unable to say anything as others discussed her so blatantly, she watched and couldn't repress a giggle at their antics.

“They are amusing,” Sesshoumaru agreed. “Now Izayoi will be dying to get you to Yura.”

“I can hardly wait,” She quipped dryly. He looked amused, and, feeling particularly childish, she stuck her tongue out. He leaned forward, smirk growing as his gaze sharpened in interest.

“If you continue to be a brat, there will be consequences,” He warned quietly, so quietly she could barely hear it over Jakotsu and Izayoi's quibbling. The statement itself made her sit straighter, flush hotly. But the word 'brat' brought back a flood of memories she did not, under any circumstances, want to think on while around her future in laws. Including him.

“Much better,” He chuckled as he leaned back. His father, thankfully, was too busy with his wife, who was pretending to be irate. Loud laughter echoed through the room, and Jakotsu was asked to ring everything up and bag it.

When they left, both men were carrying bags in each hand, and Izayoi was still guessing the length of her hair. She demurred, saying only that it hit mid back, because that was the last length she remembered it being when she checked.

“Yura will enjoy having a new head to play with, as she says. Her skills are unrivaled. Dear, what jewelry store should we go to?”

“I think Totosai.” The statement made Izayoi pause, and she turned to look at the two men that trailed closely behind them. Sesshoumaru was also looking at his father with a considering gaze, and Touga only looked as if the answer was a plain one.

“Is, I mean, who is Totosai?” She asked.

“He is a custom jeweler we often choose over all others. His work is exquisite,” Sesshoumaru intoned. “He made the wedding rings father and Izayoi were.”

“Is there some reason,” She began.

“No, it's alright,” Izayoi said, eying her husband strangely. “It is a bit of a drive though. Sesshoumaru, do you mind coming along?”

“I didn't have anything else planned today.”

“Drive Kagome then, your father and I have something to talk about.”

Sesshoumaru parted from the group, and she slowed down to follow, watching Izayoi and Touga pull close together. Brows knit in confusion, she blew out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That's the second time she's done that. Does she not like me, did I do something wrong?” She asked, voice hitching in her panic. He was quiet for several moments, and she hugged herself, hoping she hadn't been so blind as to not notice the woman's dislike, to have read her so incorrectly.

“It is not you. Inu Yasha's actions today have sparked her temper, no doubt.”

“But, I mean, it wasn't bad-”

“Even if it is her own son, especially so perhaps, she does not approve of certain behaviors.”

She wanted to defend it, but there was such censure in his tone, so much rigid anger, that she hunched her shoulders together. She wanted to ask if they thought her relationship with Inu Yasha was falling apart, but the last person she felt like asking was him. Something just seemed rude, or false, about such an action.

“Let me take those,” She said instead, moving for the bags. “I know Izayoi calls you guys pack mules, but I feel weird if other people carry stuff and I don't.” He gave her the bags without complaint, and she followed him when he began walking for his car. Silently he opened the trunk and took the bags for her, and just as silently he opened her door for her and closed it again.

When he drove, he was quiet.

All of the _quiet_ made her want to scream. Desperate for noise, she reached for the stereo, not caring if it made him angry or not.

“How has your day with Izayoi gone?” He asked instead, stopping her from turning the dial. She leaned back, unsure of how to answer.

“It's been-” A long pause as she searched for the word. “Overwhelming.” That was not the word she had meant to say. However, he chuckled and seemed to relax in his seat.

“Izayoi can be a one woman tsunami. She is very faithful to those she chooses to patronize, and in turn, they are extremely attuned to her when she comes by. It is a strange behavior, especially for a woman that married into money, but it seems to suit her.”

“I don't understand,” She admitted, not entirely sure she liked how he mentioned his step mother marrying into money.

“Izayoi was a librarian when she met my father. Though she has learned to deal with high society, she is still a librarian at heart. I think she chooses to shop only at certain places because she is comfortable there. Most women that marry into money go to every boutique and jewelry store they can. Names mean more than the clothes themselves.”

“Oh, I think I can see what you mean.” She thought so anyway, and it did make sense. How comfortable would she be, going on shopping sprees at different stores? Even the stores she'd gone to today had seemed extravagant, and she didn't try to kid herself about the money that was spent on her. But to spend her fiance's money at places like armani and chanel, she couldn't see herself doing it.

“And it has made her the envy of society. No one can quite figure out where she gets her clothes.”

“Doresu's dresses are beautiful,” She admitted, thinking about the blue dress waiting for her with a small smile. With the underthings and shoes, she'd look and feel like a queen, and while she normally didn't indulge in feminine dainties, the idea warmed her a little.

“If she's taken you to Doresu, then I can say without doubt that she has taken to you. She's her secret, as she says. And Jakotsu, who designs the shoes you now own.”

“Jakotsu designed those?”

“He does. Did she take you to any other stores?”

Oh, she was not going to discuss underwear shopping with him. She shook her head, determined to control her blush.

“Tourou?”

She sputtered out a denial, earning another laugh.

“I thought as much. Izayoi does like you. I only wanted to drive the point home. She would not share her favorite shops if she did not.”

“I think you just like embarrassing me,” She muttered, frustrated that he was willing to make the point in such a way. He could have left it well enough alone.

He went quiet, and she hugged herself, unsure of what to say next, afraid she had offended him somehow, although she was sure her comment couldn't, shouldn't have. Then something else occurred to her. He didn't think she was flirting, did he? But then, his comment in the shoe store, one she was still unsure how to interpret, still afraid to try and understand, could have been construed the same way. So what was he being so quiet for?

“Why was Izayoi hesitant about Totosai?” She finally asked.

“I'm honestly not sure. It is not a question of cost, or sharing. Father's suggestion was a wise one. Some of his family can be quite malicious, especially to those they consider below themselves. Clothing can be a form of armor, and Totosai's work will help such an armor.”

“Armor? Malicious?” She squeaked. “But-”

“You will be fine. Thus far you have proven to be intelligent and genial. I have a feeling Izayoi will rip apart anyone that looks at you incorrectly. I think in some ways you remind her of herself, when she was first engaged to my father. I remember many of the clan being distinctly displeased that he was 'polluting' our illustrious bloodline with someone they considered common.”

“Oh,” She sighed. Not once had she been warned that she would have to deal with that sort of prejudice, although she reprimanded herself for not thinking of it sooner. Izayoi and Touga had both been so welcoming, so down to earth, that it simply hadn't occurred to her.

“How has your work been?”

Grateful for the distraction, she told him about the conference and hinted at her research, not thinking he would be interested. But he surprised her by asking her more about it, and immediately he made the connection between her current studies and the child she had lost weeks before.

“It is the shortest of moments that impact our lives in such a way,” He told her at last. “I think you do her memory honor with your research.”

The sentiment made her inhale sharply. In her own head, she had hoped to assuage her guilt about losing the child, and never once had she considered it honoring the girl's memory. She didn't try to find a noble cause in it, and it made her feel even more guilty that someone else had made such a connection.

“I still feel badly. I know I can't bring her back, but I wish I could, that I had looked into this sooner. If I had-”

“It takes a catalyst, Kagome,” He rebuked gently, eyes still fixed on the road ahead of him. “History proves that there is always someone that spurs such research.”

“I still feel bad-”

“Do not.” It was nothing less than a command, and his tone gentled as he continued. “Think of it like this, if she had not died, perhaps another child would have, and the surgeon that was operating on him or her would not have decided to study treatments. More would die from the same thing. But she died on your table, and you choose to do something about it.”

“It almost sounds like fate,” She sighed. “But life doesn't work that way.”

“Causality is more prevalent than you think, and often masquerades as fate.”

He parked, and she got out, more than willing to get back in Izayoi's company. Sesshoumaru's conversation had sparked something uncomfortable in her, something she didn't want to look at. A small voice in her head whispered that even her own fiance didn't know about her research, and certainly didn't know why she was researching it. The contrast between the brothers was becoming more apparent, and she didn't want it to be, didn't want to notice.

Totosai's home, and it was his home, not a shop, was a comfortable one story cottage, and she saw a bigger building in the back. Izayoi and Touga were both waiting patiently, and she realized how out of place the three Taishos looked in the suburban sprawl. Feeling slightly more in her element, she smiled and waited patiently with them. Touga knocked again and a voice boomed out something unintelligible on the other side of the door.

Seconds later the door opened and she looked at a scruffy old man in traditional hakama and kimono.

“What?” He groused, his voice creaking as he stared them all down.

“Stop being such a rude prick and let us in,” Touga said, voice filled with exasperation. Stunned by the older man's cursing, she followed them inside, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Totosai and father have been friends for years,” Sesshoumaru informed her. “They have a special sort of relationship.”

“Oh, I, I can see,” She stammered as the old man led them through the house. Izayoi inquired into the old man's health, and after someone named Saya. When they stopped, he opened and door and they all filed in.

The room was filled with shelves. Shelves and shelves full of boxes, some wooden, some velvet, others plain cardboard. She hoped they weren't all full, prayed it was just storage.

“Kagome needs something for her engagement party. We were hoping you would have something for her,” Touga said, voice shifting from exasperated to respectful. Wondering at the change, she blushed when Totosai's gaze swung to her.

“You don't look dumb enough to bind yourself to that whelp. Eh, maybe I'm just going senile,” He sighed, making her blush even brighter.

“Kagome is an intelligent woman. Matters of the heart are never determined by the mind,” Sesshoumaru rebutted. Totosai looked at him, and she was relieved to be saved from that intense gaze. Old the jeweler might be, senile he was not. There was something knowing in his gaze, as if he could see through her, knew her secrets.

“What is it you do?”

“I'm a surgeon.”

He took her hands, looked first at her right, then her left. When his gaze lit on the ring, he paused.

“Did you pick this out?”

“No, Inu Yasha did.”

He was quiet, and she wondered if he found the ring gaudy, as she did.

“You can't wear such a ring operating on others.”

“I normally wear it on a chain.”

“I'll find one for you, something strong. Although gold's not your color.”

She wished she could agree, but didn't want to seem ungrateful in front of her fiance's parents. The ring had cost a fortune, she was sure, and the last thing she wanted to seem was unappreciative. Staying silent, dropped her hands and let him look into her face and then at her neck.

“I have a set.”

“It's a halter dress,” Izayoi began.

“I have a set,” He said again, more firmly. Everyone was strangely quiet as he shuffled over to one of the shelves and sorted through a series of wooden boxes. After checking two, he made a satisfied sound and came back, box in hand. “These will go with your eyes,” He told her, offering her the box.

She took it in her hands and opened it, almost dropping it in surprise. Inside were five bands, two matching sets and another wide one. All looked like solid circles except for a pin in the back.

“Boy, help her,” Totosai grumbled. “Touga, that commission, I finished. It's still out in the shop.”

He left the room, and Izayoi and Touga followed, leaving them alone, staring at the box.

“I can get it, it's no problem,” She stuttered, still awed by the jewelry. The bands themselves varied in width, the choker being an inch wide. Cleverly hiding a hinge that would let the choker open was a smooth, round, milky white opal that flashed blues and purples in the light.

“You are holding the box,” He said, ignoring her as he took out the necklace and pulled the pin from it. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she let him put it around her neck, where it rested perfectly on the bottom, not snug but not big, only comfortable. A chill ran down her spine when she heard the pin snick into place, and she pulled back, needing space from his hands, the digits of his fingers feeling more solid than the jewelry itself and too hot to stand.

He continued, and she looked away whenever his hands wrapped the simple silver cuffs around her wrists. They too rested comfortably, their width perhaps half an inch, the opals smaller versions of the one at her throat.

“I don't understand,” She began when he took the fourth from the box, but stopped when he knelt and pulled up her pants leg, then pulled her sock down. “What are you-”

“They are anklets,” He rumbled. She flushed as the anklet closed. He repeated the action with the last piece of jewelry, and then stood, gazing at her thoughtfully.

“Are they comfortable?”

Disconcerted by the strange, undefinable intensity of his gaze, she nodded, flushing hotly.

“Walk.”

Still unnerved by his gaze, she began walking back and forth.

“How do they feel?”

“Fine. Comfortable,” She told him, further knocked off balance by his tone.

The door opened and the three others returned, Touga with a box in hand.

“Kagome dear, those do suit, very well,” Izayoi gushed, eyes bright. “Totosai, you have a natural eye.”

“I know,” He chuckled. “Challenge'll be getting them off.”

“What, why?” She gasped, afraid the pins had been designed to break and keep the jewelry in place, or some other such strange design she couldn't begin to understand.

“I think he means you like them. Do you?”

“Oh, well, yes. They're wonderful,” She admitted shyly. “They feel nice.”

“Much better than gold. You're not a sun child. A moon child. Moon children wear silver,” Totosai said, brow arching knowingly. Unsure what to make of that, she smiled and murmured a small thank you. He took her obvious confusion with much amusement, and she flushed.

“Let me find you a chain. Touga tells me you're very dedicated to your work.”

“I am.”

“Well,” He said, pulling a small cardboard box from a shelf and checking it, then nodding to himself. “There are things other than work. Remember, all things require balance. I have a feeling your mind has been tempered by your heart, if your profession speaks for you, as well as your dedication. But I think you have tempered your heart too much with your mind.”

Not understanding what he was saying, she opted for nodding anyway. He smiled at her, then took her hand and squeezed it.

“In the box is my card, in case repairs or cleaning is needed.” She nodded again and thanked him. As they walked out, she remembered that, as the man had guessed, she hadn't taken the jewelry off and put it back in the box.

Sesshoumaru was quiet on the road, and she didn't press him for conversation, instead looking out at the scenery they passed. There was still a strained quality to the air, something she didn't understand and was too timid to provoke. Deciding on silent contemplation, she fingered one of the bracelets absentmindedly, rubbing the smooth silver beneath her index fingers.

When she grabbed her bags, he bid her goodnight and made no move to follow her, which she felt grateful for. She took the elevator up, saw a notice tacked to her door and stuck it between her teeth while she fumbled her keys from her pocket. Once inside, she sat the bags down on the couch and looked at the paper.

“Packages. Hmm, alright.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was carrying one dress bag and several boxes and almost wished he had followed her, because at the moment she did need a pack mule. Grumbling good naturedly to herself, she was grateful to drop the boxes on her kitchen table and drape the dress over the couch.

Tugging her hair free of it's tail, she locked the front door and began to carelessly strip as she walked down the hall to her bathroom, letting the clothes drop to the floor on her way. Feeling strangely tired, she walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower. After grabbing a towel from the linen closet, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

The jewelry was still on, and she had barely noticed, almost forgotten. The choker looked simple and decadent at the same time, like something someone would have worn in the past, in a lush painting. Fingering the silver lightly, she smiled, admitting, if only to herself, that she liked how it looked, resting just above her collarbones.

Shaking her head, she turned it and examined the pin in the mirror, and slid it out. Going to her vanity, she sat it down, and then the bracelets, and finally the anklets followed. Feeling even more bare than before, she ignored the sense of reluctance that rose when she turned away from them.

  _____________________________________

 **A/N:** I love all of you so much for your reviews. After Earning Her Stripes, I got really confident (perhaps too much so) and posted Undenied in response to R0o's GM challenge in an attempt to break through the smut wall in my head. -ahem- Methinks I've been armed with a sledgehammer because of you guys and your reviews, so thank you. And now R0o has a valid answer for why this is her fault lol. (To be fair, it's all of your faults, for encouraging my dirty muse.)


	7. Bound(aries)

 

 

 

 

**A little bit of kink was one of the most delicious erotic pleasures. - Jess C. Scott**

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Seven: Bound(aries)**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:** Carbonated Lemonade

Since this will be the last thing I post before New Year's except for chapters to Convivial, I just want to tell all of you Happy New Years. Make resolutions you intend to keep, and a few to break. Get drunk, get laid, get happy, get dancey. I don't care. Just have fun or fun make -ahem- _._ Perverts. XD

Be Safe. Be Happy.

 ___________________________

Never in her life had she felt more beautiful, although she had paid a fair price for it. Thinking back to the stylist's enthusiasm when her hair had been revealed, she tried not to flinch while Izayoi cooed over her. Far from what she had expected, to go to a salon, Izayoi had brought the salon to her. Yura had been torture to endure, from the tugging on her scalp to the quips about her short nails. It was only when Izayoi had pointed out that surgeons couldn't have long nails that the stylist had quieted, although there was still an air of resentment about her.

“The car will be here any minute. And you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” Izayoi sighed. “If I didn't know better, I'd say they all planned it while we weren't looking.”

Everything had come together beautifully, and she couldn't deny it.

“I just wish we had something for your shoulders. I completely forgot.”

“It's alright, I feel like a princess as it is,” She chuckled, giddy from the feeling of being beautiful. Suddenly she understood why women dressed up, why they put so much effort into finding the right dress, the right hair style, the right make up. After looking into the mirror, she felt like Cinderella on her big night.

“I don't know. A scarf perhaps? Something, just to pretend modesty as you walk in.”

“I have a few,” She began, pointing to her closet, where her scarves hung on a small rack attached to the door. Izayoi walked over to them and began sorting.

“We need something besides blue. Ah, here. This one is long, and fairly wide. It's not what I would have picked, but it'll have to do.”

Oh no, not that one. She was more than ready to protest when Izayoi settled it over her shoulders like a shrug.

“Perfect,” The woman sighed. “I know I can be pushy sometimes, and I want to thank you for letting me railroad you this past week. It's just been a long time since I've been this excited.”

She wondered when the last time had been, and what had caused it. Somehow she had little doubt the woman could take on Tokyo, if given the proper motivation.

“It's been wonderful,” She told the woman instead, smiling warmly. “I admit it's bewildering to suddenly be Cinderella, but I can get used to it,” She added with an impish grin, one Izayoi matched with her own.

The phone rang, and both women jumped, the moment passing. Izayoi answered her cell and smiled, eyes narrowing and then widening. Her smile widened and she bid the caller goodbye.

“The car is here. Let's go,” She said, trying to conceal her glee and failing miserably. Following closely behind, she took care to lock her front door and they took the elevator down to the lobby instead of the to the lower parking decks. When she walked out into the night, she was stunned by the sight of a limo.

“A limo?”

“Touga's family is terribly pretentious,” Izayoi laughed as the driver opened the door and helped them in.

“Pretentious is only one word for it,” Touga said, having heard his wife. “You two ladies are stunning this evening.”

“Thank you,” Kagome murmured as she took a seat next to her fiance, who was staring out the window, forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Inu Yasha,” She murmured, making him jump. Surprised that she had startled him, she smiled, wishing she'd just stayed quiet when he looked at her, his eyes wide.

“Kagome. You look nice,” He commented.

She tried not to feel stung by how empty the compliment had sounded, how hollow his voice seemed.

“Sesshoumaru will meet us there,” Touga said.

She tried to force a smile to her face and failed, looking back over to her fiance, who was, in turn, staring outside at the world passing by. Suddenly the night seemed to stretch out forever in front of her, a daunting task instead of a party to celebrate her upcoming nuptials.

___________________________

The ballroom was a lavish affair, filled with several dozen people, all of whom were dressed up in their own extravagant dresses and tuxedos. Though she had been aware that Inu Yasha's family were rich,she had not been aware that they were also affluent. Despite being only half aware of politics, she could spot two politicians, and several people who she thought she recognized from television.

And everyone was stunningly beautiful, making her feel plain and very small despite the clothing and make up and jewelry. Several eyed her with curiosity or ill disguised malice, and Inu Yasha's disinterest in the whole event was only making her feel more and more anxious.

“Kagome, come with me. You must meet Touga's uncle,” Izayoi said, taking her hand and leading her from her fiance. Desperate for something solid, supportive, she latched on and smiled, nervous tension knotting in her stomach and threatening to make her throw up.

“Izayoi,” A voice boomed, making her jump half a foot in the air. The owner of said voice, an old man with long white hair in a braid and kind gold eyes, walked over to them. She noticed the signs of age, the spots on his hands, the slightly bent back. But his gold eyes were clear, sharp.

“Engan, this is Kagome, Inu Yasha's fiance.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you my dear,” He said, taking her hand and giving the top of it a kiss. When he straightened, she flushed under his scrutiny.

“My nephew tells me you are a surgeon.”

“A pediatric neurosurgeon,” She confirmed shakily. His gaze was strangely piercing, knowing. What did he see?

“After you marry, will you quit?”

“No!” She gasped, the very idea making her ache. Then she realized how rude she'd sounded and flushed even more. “My work is important to me.”

“Good. What about children?”

Children? She and Inu Yasha hadn't even discussed children. Of course she wanted some, but they had just gotten engaged, surely they weren't expected to think about that quite yet.

“I would love to have children,” She finally admitted.

“Will you be able to balance both?”

“I'll try,” She said after a moment's hesitation.

“What comes first?”

“Family,” She answered automatically, earning a smile from the old man.

“Very good. My nephew tells me Higurashi Shun was your father.” She nodded once, and he smiled even more widely. “Also said you wielded Tenseiga against Tessaiga, and evenly matched Sesshoumaru. Wish I could have been there to see that.”

“It was quite beautiful,” Izayoi informed him. “Perhaps at some point in the future, we can all visit the dojo and watch them.”

“What say you, Kagome?”

“I would enjoy that,” She admitted, although the idea of facing Sesshoumaru again sent a shiver running down her spine. That moment of connectedness had yet to be matched by anything or anyone in her life, and her own emotional conflict concerning it made her wary of losing herself to the dance as she had before.

“Well, Izayoi likes you, which means you aren't after the family name or money. Touga likes you, which means you aren't some fussy ninny obsessed with your looks, and Sesshoumaru likes you, which proves that you're intelligent. I trust their opinion, crazy old coot that I am. Welcome to our family, Kagome Higurashi,” He said, inclining his head to her. She nodded in return, smiling at his antics.

“Do not trust his facade. Old perhaps, but not crazy,” Sesshoumaru said from behind her. Spinning so quickly her skirt flared against his legs and the world spun, she gulped and nodded, awed at the sight of him in a tuxedo. Proper and frighteningly predatory, there were no other words for it. He gave the impression of being something wild pretending to be civilized for the night, merely by how he held himself and the tilt of his head, the sharpness of his eyes.

“Sesshoumaru, good to see you boy. Izayoi here has volunteered you for a future match against Kagome at the dojo. I expect not to be disappointed.”

“Yes, Uncle,” He said, eyes not leaving her as they skimmed over her body. Suddenly she was aware of the lightly coiled tendrils of her hair swaying against her back, the silk of the dress whispering over the silk stockings. And most of all the scarf, draped artfully over each elbow.

“You look lovely this evening,” He said, bowing slightly and taking her hand. The bracelet rested, warmed by her skin, snugly on her wrist, and she saw his eyes darken at the sight of it.

“She is a vision,” Engan agreed as Sesshoumaru kissed the top of her hand, breath hot on the surface. Her breasts felt heavy suddenly, full as the warm puff of air spanned over the surface of her skin. His hand became strangely vivid, hot around her fingers. When he dropped her hand, she brought it to her side and forced it to remain relaxed, smiled up at him sunnily, as if she hadn't been affected in the least.

He walked away then, and she allowed herself to be led by Izayoi around the room, speaking to other family members, some of whom welcomed her warmly, others who regarded her with suspicion. Despite her own shyness, she forced herself to answer with smiles every time, and openly about who she was. She laughed at the jokes about surgeons, all of which she'd heard a thousand times in medical school, and listened to eloquent speeches about marriage and the family history.

By the time Izayoi led her to the adjoining room where several round tables sat, covered in white linen and crystal vases with red roses, she was ready to drop. Grateful to finally sit, she inhaled, then exhaled, surprised by Izayoi's faint sigh.

“It can be a chore. Luckily you only have to come to these sorts of things for weddings and the like. It doesn't happen often. Business related gatherings are more frequent, although since you're a surgeon, you have an excuse.” It was almost an accusation, but a playfully worded one.

“Never too late for a career change,” Kagome suggested, earning a playful swat on her arm from the older woman, who had sunk into a chair next to her.

“I'm glad we avoided a formal dinner at least. Everyone will come in and eat as they will. I'm not hungry, but I could use a glass of champagne.”

As if summoned by magic, Touga appeared, a champagne flute filled with the bubbling liquid in each hand.

“How are you two holding up?” He asked, smiling gently at the both of themas he handed over the tall, thin glasses.

“I was unaware that everyone knew the same three jokes about surgeons,” Izayoi muttered as she accepted the glass. “How do you stand it?”

“Easy, our professors forced them on us every day to get us used to them. And to remind us we that we're only human, so we don't end up being the punchline for the jokes in real life.”

“Smart professors,” Izayoi sighed. “I'd murder if I had to deal with that.”

“We develop thick skins,” She sighed, trying not to think about going back out to where the Taisho family, clan more aptly, had gathered to meet her. “Are there more to meet?”

“I think we got everyone important,” Izayoi breathed, fanning herself. “Next is taking a few turns around the dance floor, more chatting, and then, with some luck, they'll leave.”

In that moment, she felt a deeper kinship to Izayoi than she had before, cemented by their mutual, obvious dislike for the parties.

“The dresses are fun though,” She tried, hoping to lighten the situation.

“Like playing dress up. The pampering too,” Izayoi agreed.

“Can't say I regret the shopping spree,” She giggled.

“Jakotsu is in love with your feet.”

“I'm in love with the underwear,” She admitted, wondering if she'd break through the woman's daze. Touga however, guffawed loudly, snorting to try and cover the sound and failing so miserably she was surprised he didn't choke.

“Escape I see,” A new voice observed. Touga turned and Sesshoumaru was revealed, walking over with two more champagne flutes.

“How do you all do this?” Kagome sighed. “I mean, it's beautiful, but-”

“We avoid them when we can, go to the ones we can't, and fortify ourselves with the knowledge that at least the women get to play dress up,” Touga said with a warm chuckle. “Which is as much of a present to us as it is to you.”

Kagome flushed hotly, but raised her glass when Izayoi did, and clinked them together gently.

“Well, at least when we play dress up, we do it well,” Izayoi rebutted before taking another sip of her drink.

“That you do, both of you,” Touga agreed.

“Father, there is something I needed to speak to you about,” Sesshoumaru sighed, looking pained. Touga looked ready to protest when she saw Sesshoumaru shake his head, barely moving it, but enough to send a wave through his long, unbound hair. They both walked away, and she watched as the younger Taisho told the other some news, news which she assumed to be bad from the sudden darkening of Touga's expression.

“Oh no,” Izayoi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Someone must have done something stupid. I haven't seen him look like that since Inu Yasha demanded ownership of Tessiaga.”

“Inu Yasha did what?” Kagome gasped, choking on the champagne in her throat. Even though she had very little knowledge about historical swords, she knew the ones owned by Touga were priceless family heirlooms. Such heirlooms were bestowed. What few she had in her possession had been given to her at various points in her life, when her mother and grandfather had deemed her ready. That Inu Yasha would demand ownership boggled her mind.

“It was a few years ago. Oh dear, he's truly angry,” Izayoi gasped as Touga strode over to them, face forced into a calm mask of apathy.

“Inu Yasha has been called away by a business emergency.”

The world dropped from beneath her, and she was grateful she was sitting down at least. Otherwise she wasn't sure if she would be able to make it.

“A business emergency?” She finally asked. They hadn't even spent any time together, and it was their engagement party!

“He was vague,” Touga said in a cool voice. “Apparently there have been some merger troubles as of late, and he's been putting in some over time.”

How humiliating. He'd snubbed her in front of his entire family, for work. Work that probably could have waited. Inhaling deeply, she forced a smile to her face.

“Maybe I can talk Engan into dancing with me instead,” She chuckled, and was pleased with herself when it came out sounding genuine.

“I am sure you won't want for dancing partners tonight,” Sesshoumaru intoned.

“In fact, I believe I'll claim the first dance with you, if my darling wife wouldn't mind,” Touga said.

What happened next was truly a fairy tale experience for her, because she was in a glittering ballroom, in a dress that made her feel like a queen, and half of the males at the party decided she needed to dance. Never was she without a partner, although she was positive talk was had when Izayoi stepped in and giggling, demanded a dance. Unable to refuse the woman anything, she laughed and felt strangely light as she danced with her future mother in law.

“You have surprised me again, Kagome,” Izayoi told her, looking quite proud.

“That I can dance? I think it's in a female's genetics,” Kagome chuckled as they spun.

“No, that you have handled the evening so well. And don't let my light step fool you, Touga's feet suffered for months before I got the hang of it,” She laughed, the sound carrying over the dance floor. Flushing from the woman's praise and the fast spins and steps they whirled through, she nodded and laughed just as freely, caught up in her own fairy tale. Inu Yasha's absence was a distant thought, lost to the breathless giddiness of dancing, in being charmed and charming.

When Sesshoumaru cut in, Izayoi bowed out gracefully, spinning into her waiting husband's arms.

“I told you that you would not want for dance partners,” He told her as they moved over the floor. She nodded, trying not to feel the sudden warmth of his palm through the silk on her waist and the roughness of his hand holding her own. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the exposed skin of her back, burning her.

“Engan is spry for such an old man,” She joked, trying to ignore the heat that bare touch of his fingers incited.

“He still teaches at his dojo.”

“I'm not surprised.”

His hand on her waist tightened, a slight movement that sent a wave of heat coursing through her. His eyes darkened and his thumb caressed her palm, making small circles as he continued spinning her around the dance floor.

“Sesshoumaru-”

“Perhaps some dreams are better if there are no words,” He advised, voice calm and gentle. There was no threat in the warning, and a hint of something strange flavoring the words.

And because it was easier to stay silent, to allow herself to enjoy the feel of his hands holding her, his body guiding her own, she said nothing. It was dangerous and stupid, and she didn't care, because nothing would come of it, that much she assured herself of. He was someone that she had, for a brief moment in time, crashed against, moved against, and then they had parted ways.

It was just a dance. Just a dance.

When it was over, she felt drunk, warm. The spot where his hand had gripped her hip burned, and her palm still tingled from the feel of his thumb stroking it.

Little by little others began filtering out. She danced with others, listened to a dozen more repeats of the same jokes, was wished well and bid farewell to the majority of the family as they left in pair or groups.

By the time most everyone had gone, she was hiding in the dining room, sipping from another tall, thin champagne flute. He came to her then, moving with sleek, predatory grace.

“Come with me,” He told her.

“Izayoi-”

“They are otherwise engaged,” He told her. Confused, she stood and followed him back into the main ballroom, touched by the sight of the married couple dancing through the room to music only they could hear. Obviously oblivious to their audience, they spun and dipped, a graceful pair so in tune with one another that they could have been one body and not two.

“They will do that for hours, it is their reward to one another for going through the night,” He told her quietly. She nodded, not willing to interrupt the couple. Something twisted in her heart, something sharp and brittle, as she turned away from them.

The absolute love in their eyes was easy for anyone to read, to see. That Touga adored his wife was as plain to see as the fact that Izayoi worshiped her husband. Tears pricked at her eyes, making her blink rapidly, and she followed him to the elevator, suddenly desperate to get away from that image.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded. The doors closed, and she stared ahead, thinking about how Izayoi and Touga had looked dancing together. Inu Yasha had never looked at her like that, had never swept her into a dance.

But it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt that he hadn't. It hurt that no one had.

Despite her every effort, a tear escaped, followed by another, and then another. Determined not to make a sound, she forced herself to conform to measured breaths through her nose, hands clenching at her sides from the effort.

Sesshoumaru said nothing, not commenting on her tears even though they were obvious. It wasn't until they reached the bottom and the valet brought his car around that he even acknowledged her, and even then only to open the door for her. She got in, still lost in the realization that what Touga and Izayoi had was more, something valuable. The thought was followed by the stern reprimand that what they had was rare, and that wanting more than what she had wasn't just unrealistic, it was childish.

“Sesshoumaru?”

“Yes?”

“What happened to your mother?”

He was quiet, and she was grateful for some other worry, some other topic, no matter how taboo. Even if she had made him angry, had overstepped herself, it was easier to deal with that her previous thought.

“She and my father were not well suited to one another. I have never been told more than that. They are still friends, however, so it was an amicable parting.”

“Oh.”

“She travels often.”

“Did she ever marry again?”

“No. I think she enjoys her freedom too much.”

There was that stilted silence again, and she hugged herself to ward off the chill she suddenly felt. When he finally pulled in front of her building, she murmured a small goodbye and stepped out, dragging in a deep breath of air.

Feeling strangely restless, she tried to keep from fidgiting as she took the elevator up to her floor. After closing and locking her door behind her, she looked around the small space. The idea of a shower didn't appeal, and a part of her was reluctant to undress. She'd only been wearing the dress for a few hours, and after all the work that had gone into it, she wanted to enjoy the feel of it for just a little while longer. As long as she wore it, she was someone different, someone beautiful and witty and smart, someone, something, besides a surgeon.

Kicking off her shoes carelessly, she walked to her room and twirled once on the way, giggling at the flare of silk against the walls of the hallway. In her room, she walked over to her stereo and switched it to one of her favorite stations.

Smooth, smoky jazz began pouring out, and she began swaying. The silk pushed against her legs, whispering against her stockings and then pulling away. Closing her eyes, she moved her arms, letting the notes of the music drift through her. A man's smooth voice began singing lyrics, and she tipped her head back, imagining she was in a smoky club somewhere, alone on the dance floor.

In her head, there were tables in the dim light, the people sitting at them half obscured by shadows and smoke. Some watched her intently, blatantly, others from over the rims of their glasses. In the corner of the room a man sang, the band behind him.

Smooth and sensual, like the silk pressing against her breasts, slipping against her stomach and thighs, she moved, feeling deliciously alive. Each set of eyes on her desired, wanted. Stared at her, afraid to come closer, but too curious, enthralled even, to look away, to leave.

The hand on her back was warm, rough and oh so real that she moaned, savoring the feel of it brushing up her skin. Shuddering when the hand moved to the front of her neck to tip her head back, she stopped, feeling a very solid chest stop her from moving any further.

She said nothing when his hands pushed her arms down, the scarf still draped over them. And when she felt the scarf moved, manipulated until her hands were bound together, she stayed quiet. It wasn't until his hands settled back on her waist that she dared to speak, unsure if she was dreaming or if he had let himself in and found her dancing.

“Sesshoumaru?”

“You were beautiful tonight,” He replied softly, hands burning a hole through the dress and pressing against her skin.

“Thank you.”

Hyper aware of the scarf tying her hands together, of the sudden heaviness of her blood as it pulsed through her, she continued swaying to the music as it thrummed on, afraid to turn and look behind her.

One hand smoothed up over the silk of the dress, between her breasts, and the other slid up her back, following the path of her spine. Once again his hand rested on her neck. Though there was no pressure, the warmth itself through the fabric of the halter seemed to burn into her, made her want to tilt her head back more.

The neck came undone, and she repressed another shiver as he nuzzled her ear.

“Sesshoumaru-”

“I told you that if you didn't stop it then, it would not stop until I ended it,” He reminded her.

That memory sent a delicious, delicate shudder through her, even though she knew it was wrong, that it shouldn't.

“Have you thought of me?”

There was that command in his tone, steel beneath the softness.

Another tipping point. She felt reckless, alive, and lonely. His warmth soothed the chill, blanketed it in his almost overwhelming presence.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I told Sango about what happened,” She whispered. “We were drinking, and I needed to tell someone.”

“That's it?”

She shook her head, blushing and afraid to continue.

“We-”

He waited patiently, the hand at her back moving to tangle in her hair.

“She told me that it was okay, and wanted me to tell her what happened.”

“Did you?”

She nodded.

“We were drunk, and she was touching herself while I talked about it.”

“What did you do?”

“I started to do it too.”

“Did you come?”

She shivered, nodded as the tips of his fingers brushed against her scalp.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because we always hid it, because I was hot and wanted to. I've never done it, but it felt normal,” She admitted, surprised by the sudden tugging against her scalp.

“Regrets?”

She didn't know if he was asking about their rushed, angry coupling or masturbating in front of her best friend. Perhaps both, and answering both, she shook her head, trying not to wince when her scalp was pulled with the movement.

The front of the dress dropped down once his hand moved, and when it hung from her hips, she arched into the palm that moved down, down over her breasts and stomach, rested above the line of the blue silk.

“Where is the last piece?”

Immediately she understood what he was asking.

“On the vanity.”

He moved past her, steps measured and calm. Still not completely understanding what was happening, why it was happening, why she was going along with it, she bit her lip when he turned, the choker in hand. His gaze was dark, hooded as he opened it and put it around her neck, easily sliding the pin into place.

With a simple push of his hands, the silk dress puddled at her feet like water. Nervous tension burned through her as he looked at the light blue underthings. Then deftly his hands came forward to unclasp one front garter, then the one on her other leg. When he stepped forward, reached behind her, she inhaled deeply, startled by the clean, mountain scent of him. Pines and stone, cold air and earth. His fingers brushed over her hands before he began kneeling slowly, his lips trailing a path between her breasts, down her stomach until he reached her navel.

The back garter straps came loose, and his hands covered the backs of her thighs, cupped her bottom, moved up, all while he kissed her belly slowly, languorously. The garter belt joined the dress around her feet, and then slowly he tugged her panties down, exposing the bikini wax Yura had forced on her. When he began pulling the stockings down, she felt a flicker of surprise. Most men liked women in thigh highs, at least she assumed so, because of the vast amounts of porn with women in them. But he slid first one down, lifted her leg to finish pulling it under the anklet and off of her foot completely. The other followed, a forgotten wisp of sheer fabric as he stood, repeating the trail of kisses in reverse.

Suddenly she wished her hands weren't bound, because she wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him and to strip him as naked as she was. When his hands moved back behind her, a flicker of excitement trilled through her. The scarf loosened and her hands came free. Immediately she moved to cup his face in her hands, but was stopped when they were captured in his own, and the scarf began winding around them.

“Patient,” He rumbled. The scarf tightened, and he took both trailing ends in one hand, and began tugging, moving over closer to the bed. Unsure of what else to do, she followed, and when he pushed her down with his free hand, she went willingly. It was when he drew her arms over her head that she made a small noise in the back of her throat. For a brief second she resisted, but he tugged insistently, and then her arms were tied securely to one of the bars of her headboard.

She tugged, making an angry noise in the back of her throat. Not once in her life had she been tied up, and it had never occurred to her to fantasize about it. Unsure if she liked it or not, she tugged again, feeling a spike of fear lance through the strange lust pulsing in her belly.

“You have rushed me before. This time I aim to enjoy you, without interruption,” He told her. Looking from the spot where the scarf was tied to the headboard up int his eyes, she lost the will to fight it. He looked hungry, like he was going to devour her, consume her until there was nothing left. She shivered, earning a throaty chuckle that made her toes curl in anticipation.

He straddled her waist and bent down, his hair forming a curtain around them, and within, looking up into his eyes, she felt like they were the only two people in the world. Lips brushed against her own, lightly at first, and she strained her neck trying to push her lips up, craving more. Instead, he shifted away, smirking.

“Relax, enjoy,” He commanded her. And she was sure it was a command, because in the next moment he was kissing her neck, tongue hot and velvety over her skin as it flicked out between his lips.

Dazed and dizzied by his gentle ministrations, she gasped and sighed, moaned and stuttered as his made his way down her neck, over her chest and followed the dips and swells of her curves. Warm lips slid and peppered her skin with kisses, finding spots even she hadn't known about, spots that had never been sensitive or especially erotic to her, and brought them into delicious, electrifying awareness. The line of a rib, the peak of a hip, even her navel became spots of tingling sensitivity. Down, down, his breath fanning over her thighs, tongue tasting the soft skin. Half delirious from sensational overload, she almost laughed when his teeth lightly nipped the side of a knee, tickling and making her leg jerk in response.

If he was savoring her, she didn't really understand it. More so, she felt selfishly spoiled, pampered and held as he continued, fingers lightly held her foot and rubbed the underside as he kissed her ankle.

“Sesshoumaru-”

His answer was a smooth, baritone rumble, a sigh and hum, that ordered silence gently.

Slowly, tortuously slow, he began making his way back up her legs. Sure that he was intentionally trying to drive her crazy, she bent her legs, rubbed them against his arms, his side as he moved higher and higher. The friction of skin against skin was more erotic than anything she could ever remember feeling, sinfully satisfying and yet leaving her wanting more.

His breath puffed over her sex, and she felt the tip of his nose against her pubic mound. Forgetting the scarf, her hands moved to try and force his head to that spot, only to make the headboard shift from the strength of her movement. Gold eyes opened and looked up at her from between her legs, amusement glinting in their depths.

“I told you, I was going to take my time,” He told her. The words vibrated against the lips of her pussy, making her tremble with want.

“Please,” She whispered, hips tilting and shifting, trying to push against his mouth.

His chuckle thrumming against her mound made her groan. Now she knew he was teasing as he kissed the area, nuzzled it lightly. Pleading whimpers came out as half babbled gasps as she writhed beneath him, legs moving over his shoulders, over the muscles of his back. Slick, throbbing heat radiated from her core, quivering with every exhale that brushed against it.

When his tongue parted her folds she was sure she was dying. Far from anything she had ever experienced before, he was slow, his tongue lapping lightly as her flesh. Appreciative groans escaped only to vibrate against the wall of her sex, earning spastic twitches in response. Again and again her hands tugged at her bonds as she forgot only to be reminded.

The wet velvet of his tongue brought her slowly to the edge, drawing her into a wide spiral that coiled more and more tightly. Sensation became almost painful as he sucked her clit into his mouth gently, is tongue a flat wall pressing against it before flicking around it, over it in rapid, tight circles. The sudden speed, the heavy pressure of it sent her abruptly over the edge, the orgasm so unexpected she couldn't stop the breathless scream that wrenched itself from her throat. Electricity shocked the tips of nerves, bursting like fireworks beneath her skin as shock waves of pleasure thrummed through her, seeming to increase with each lungful of air she pulled in.

His lips were a revelation on her own, her taste on his tongue sweet and vividly erotic. When he pulled away, she looked up at him, mouth open and readying a plea. He was ahead of her, lifting her legs and angling them so they were straight up, pressed against his chest, hands traveling up her calves to rest on the bracelets for a moment.

Dimly, she wondered when he had taken off all of his clothes.

“I've imagined you wearing nothing but these since I put them in place,” He murmured against her ankle before pressing a light kiss to it.

She shivered, understanding finally lighting upon her consciousness.

Not just jewelry. Not just a necklace or bracelets. Not just simple bands.

Bonds.

If it were possible, she felt even more desirable, even more wanted beneath his gaze with that realization. Sensual and dangerous, branded by the metal resting on her skin. And yet utterly safe, held by him within them.

The tip of his cock pressed against her, rubbing against her wetness.

“Sesshoumaru,” She whimpered, pleading, needing him, needing completion.

“You're so beautiful,” He murmured, bringing his arms around her legs, hugging them to his chest tightly as he slid in with one long, smooth stroke, filling her up and pressing against the barrier of her cervix. Her long, keening wail mixed with his groan of satisfaction, threading together to echo and reverberate through the room.

Just as slowly as he had pushed into her, he was withdrawing, setting every nerve ending on fire. The angle her legs were held at, the way he held them tightly so she was almost completely immobilized only added to the sensation. Breathless pants escaped as she tried to draw in air. His gold eyes were intent, focused on her own and demanding her unbroken, unwavering gaze. Pulled deeper into the gold, falling into his gaze, she fought the urge to blink, to clench her eyelids shut.

Another long, slow, controlled thrust into her. His gaze was wrapping around her, binding her more effectively than the scarf, a solid blanket of sensation more real to her than the bed beneath her back. He continued that way, agonizingly slow and complete in his movements. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest. Atoms of light began bursting in her blood, small fireworks that burned through her as he continued pulling her closer to the edge, closer into tipping into him completely.

When his arms tightened further on her legs and his hips bucked forward she couldn't help but throw her head back and close her eyes, the sudden movement too much to bear after the teasing she'd endured. As if to reward her break in control, he pumped in and out of her harder, quicker. The orgasm was a sharp mix of pleasure and pain as he used the angle of her body to bury himself deeper. She could feel every ridge and line of him, could feel the head of his cock rubbing against the sensitive gathering of nerves inside of her pussy.

When she was a trembling, shuddering mess sobbing his name, he didn't stop, only slowed.

And began to the almost agonizing process over again.

Slowly he built her back up, forcing her even higher than before while waves of aftershocks still trembled through her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, slid down the sides of her face as her body tightened and burned, the muscles feeling ready to snap beneath the skin. His arms held her legs even more tightly as she trembled, felt them tense and quiver.

No longer in control of her own body, she gave in, gave up and drowned in the feel of his sweat slicked skin against her, burned in the heat of the friction as he thrust in and out, gaining speed and momentum. A scream wrenched itself from her throat as his dick pushed against the barrier to her womb even harder. Slow and gentle became savage and brutal. Heat, intense and slick and scorching bloomed in her cunt, his come pulsing into her, sending her over the edge again, crashing on waves of jagged light.

And then her legs were falling to the sides, hands were moving over her slick skin, gentle. Her hands were free and she was turning into his solid warmth, touching everywhere, taking comfort in the surety of him, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. Tears came unbidden, unexplained and almost frightening as she shook and gasped for air.

He was safe, he was solid and real and he was shutting out the world, protecting her from it, protecting her and holding her. The knowledge, the sheer freefall into him was so profoundly relieving that she clung to him, oblivious to her fingers tangling through his long hair and gripping skin, of her nails digging into his back. Soothing noises rumbled into her ear, nonsensical sounds that made her feel strangely cherished.

She didn't even think about her engagement, or that she was being held by her fiance's brother. None of it mattered, none of it existed. She was safe, held. Reality was limited to the feel of him pressed against her, around her. Tension melted from her body, seeped out into the air and disappeared.

For the first time since becoming an adult, she fell asleep feeling safe and infinitely cared for.

 ___________________________

A/N: Bondage, no matter how light, can be a very intense experience, as can orgasms. It's not unheard of for women to cry during orgasm, and people crying after experiencing even light bondage isn't unusual either. And it's not from pain or sadness either, but both can be extreme emotional releases. 

Now, I know a lot of you think Inu Yasha is cheating. Ahem. It's really not what you think. That's just a bit too obvious, even for me lol, but some of you are half correct. I adore you all, and thank you for the reviews, even the anonymous ones that I can't reply to. I hope you enjoyed this. Until next time. Happy New Years!


	8. Release

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Eight: Release**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.

 **Kink Scale:** Lemon Sherbert

YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!  I love my reviews soooooooooooo much! And I'm sorry it's late. My muses hijacked me for Muse. Other present stories are being written as we spe-err, you read.

 ___________________________________

When she woke, gold eyes were staring into her own. Dim light filtered in through her light curtains and haloed the long, silver hair draped over their skin, giving him an almost effervescent glow. His lips were tilted ever so slightly into a smile.

“Good morning,” He greeted, a smooth baritone rumble.

Reality came rushing back, an almost physical slap that made her jerk away from him and almost sent her over the edge of the bed. She knew that he immediately understood her withdrawal, just as she could easily see his expression change from one of sleepy contentment to troubled darkness.

“Crap,” She muttered, jumping fro the bed and wrapping a blanket around herself. It didn't even occur to her that she had cursed in front of someone else.

He looked so good against her white blankets and sheets, so beautiful and tousled, and she wanted to get back in the bed and cuddle with him, to savor the after effects of their coupling, which scared her almost as much as the fact that she had, for someone reason she still couldn't comprehend, given in to his sensual onslaught the night before.

“Kagome-”

“No,” She snapped, fear making her sound desperate and small. She shook her head, hoping in a futile, dim way that she would wake up and her fiance's brother would not be in her bed, in her apartment, looking like a sated animal.

“Kagome-”

“No.”

He was out of the bed, in front of her in all of his naked glory, gold eyes boring down into her blue ones. Something dark and angry flickered in their depths, and fear trembled through her.

“Kagome-”

“Please, please don't,” She begged, tears burning her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. Shame and guilt made her stomach roil dangerously, and she was sure if he continued staring down at her like that, she was going to be sick.

Rough, warm hands settled on her shoulders, followed the lines of her to her throat, rested over the silver band on her neck.

“You surrendered last night, every part of you,” He murmured. “I accepted. I do not intend to let it go.”

“We can't-”

“We have.”

“Why are you doing this?” She whispered, wanting to put distance between their bodies, but stuck to the spot. He said nothing for several minutes, and she could see his eyes filled with a plethora of emotions and thoughts, each more unknowable and frightening than the last.

“Answer me this,” He finally said. “What did you feel the first time we met, when you didn't know who I was, when you couldn't see me?”

She didn't want to answer that question, because the answer alone was dangerous, a bomb waiting for someone to press the button.

“Kagome, answer me.”

“I don't know,” She whispered, hunching her shoulders and looking down, covering her face with her hands. Anything to block out the sight of him, to hide herself so he couldn't see her deception. But guessing her motivation, his hand, so big compared to her small ones, grasped both of her wrists and pulled them away from her face while another took her chin and forced it up, giving her no choice but to close her eyes.

“Look at me,” He commanded, making her clench her lids more tightly. “Kagome,” He barked, the sudden volume and bite to his tone making her flinch. “Open your eyes.”

Against her will, they opened.

“What did you feel?”

“Beautiful, wanted,” She admitted, her nose burning from the sudden heat of tears. She sniffed, trying to hold in the sob that was building in her chest. “Cared for.”

The last came out despite her attempt to keep it in, to keep it secret and safe from him, from the world. When his eyes softened, she wanted to wail in anguish, to take it back with every fiber of her being.

His hands moved up her neck and cupped her face with a gentleness that was suddenly dangerous, frightening. Her knees trembled, gave way and she was slumping against him, his arms wrapping around her and holding her up.

“Because you are.”

The words almost passed her by, a light whisper barely heard over her deep, shuddering attempts at breathing. But they filtered through, and for a moment she didn't understand what they meant, what he had said or what had prompted it. And then understanding wrapped around it.

Her heart stopped and she pushed at him, hands pressing against his bare chest and pushing her back into her vanity, the sudden noise of drawers and jewelry clattering angrily making her flinch.

“Get out.”

“Kagome-”

“Get out,” She shouted, hands hugging herself tightly. She couldn't look at him anymore, couldn't watch as he stood there, a tense, angry statue that radiated fury.

“No.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?” She shouted, looking up at the ceiling.

“Because you want it.”

“How big of a narcissist are you?” She snapped, determined to hurt him, to make him angry, anything to get him to just _leave_.

“Considering last night you had no objections, that you willingly-”

“I was vulnerable and you took advantage of it-”

The world blurred, and she was on the bed, over his lap, his knees pressing into her stomach. The sheet began bunching up, and she struggled against the hold his arm had on her.

“I told you there would be consequences if you were a brat,” He snapped, the sheet finally bunched around her midsection, baring her bottom to the world.

“You can't possibly-” He sentence was stopped short by the breath forced from her lungs, ending in a startled gasp as his large hand made contact with her backside. More outraged than hurt, shocked than pained, she let out a screech that did more than convey her own rage. And that sound too, ended in a huff of air as his hand made contact again.

“What are you- stop!” She demanded, still trying to free herself. His grip was too sure, too strong on her, and he suddenly rained down several hard, stinging slaps in quick succession.

Hot, humiliated tears ran down her cheeks as he kept going. Pain crept through, made her want to weep even more loudly as the smacks burned her bare behind. Soon her whole bottom was on fire, and the harsh smacks lost distinction, felt as dull thuds against her flesh. When he stopped, she was trembling and weeping quietly, her struggles ceased an eternity before.

Strangely gentle considering his ministrations seconds before, he pulled the sheet down and forced her to sit up, situated her in his lap and held her close. He was breathing hard, and she felt his body, tense, as if ready to snap.

“I will never take advantage of you, I will never lie to you,” He told her in a voice that betrayed both anger and hurt, making her feel decidedly ashamed of herself despite what he had done. “Had you voiced an objection, I would have left.”

And she hadn't. She wanted to blame him, but she was an adult, knew that no matter how much she tried to lie and say that she was alone and vulnerable, she had in reality accepted without protest. That she had wanted him again. Her accusation hadn't been just rude, it had been cowardly.

“This is wrong,” She finally sighed, relaxing into him. “It's wrong, Sesshoumaru.”

His sigh was one of agreement, a long, slow sound that hinted at a deeper sorrow.

“Would that I had met you first.”

The regret and sincerity in his words couple with his earlier admission caused a strange sensation in her heart, like a needle slowly being pushed in. His abrupt, domineering actions forgotten, she turned to face him, saw a sadness in his eyes that pushed the needle a little deeper. Inwardly she cried that something so beautiful was so sad. Like a tragic statue carved to lament some unknown loss forever.

Wanting to sooth that hurt, she shifted, straddled his lap and cupped his face gently. Lightly, delicately, she dusted kisses on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheekbones and nose. She skipped over his lips and kissed his chin, the line of his jaw, and rested her cheek against his for a moment, arms going over his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

“Sesshoumaru,” She whispered, a sigh laced with something too delicate to name. His body shuddered beneath hers, and she was pushing him back, letting the sheet open as she moved up the bed with him.

As it had every time before, the world faded, dimmed and became a blur. Beyond the dark curtain of her hair there was nothing. Skin was warm to the touch, his hands rough as they caressed her everywhere, as if trying to learn every curve and dip and swell, every line of bones against skin, every slope of muscle as it moved.

Leaning down, she brushed her lips over his, let herself savor the hardness of him beneath her, the heat of his breath.

Wanting to give instead of take, instead of letting him take, she reached between them and positioned his length at her entrance and slid down, a light hiss escaping at the invasion. Still tender from the night before, she moved slowly, almost lazily. The position itself was almost new to her, one she'd rarely done before due to sheer embarrassment. But his groans encouraged her, made her shift until she was sitting up, his thighs beneath her hands to help her move up and down.

Long, low moans and sighs laced in the air, and his hands held her hips, helped guide her as she savored the fullness, the heady, overwhelming warmth of him below her. Just when she thought he was too deep, that she couldn't take anymore, a burst of pleasure pain shivered through her, created a sensual ache.

There was the strange feeling that as she was giving, that as she opened herself to him, he was offering as well, and she took, accepted it.

Their mutual release wasn't blinding or cataclysmic, but it was all consuming, soothing, almost comforting. She laid down on him, feeling him still pulsing inside of her. Shudders ran through both of them, and he held her tightly, wrapped his arms around her and kept her close, as if he was afraid she would vanish.

Intent on blocking everything out for awhile longer, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaled the scent of sweat and fall mountain air that he radiated. His arms were a protective circle, a wall that created their world, separated it from the real one. In his embrace, joined with him, she was safe, complete.

Neither of them said anything as they clung to one another, breaths slowing and deepening. Cocooned in their world, in their safety, she drifted, hand resting over his heart, taking comfort in the solid surety of it's beating.

 ___________________________________

When she woke, he was still asleep, and she took the time to soak in the sight of him. Impossibly pale skin and long white hair blended in with her white blankets, and relaxed features were soft in sleep as they weren't in his waking hours. The entire effect was ethereal, and she felt as if she'd stepped into a painting, where wisps of dreams had come together to form a solid whole.

It was wrong that he was there, that he was so beautiful to her. Every logical thought told her that she should kick him out, should bring their strange relationship to a close. But logic took a back seat to something else, something intangible and entirely unnameable. It wasn't love, she knew that. It was too soon, too shallow for love. But there was something, and that something was both fragile and lethal, so dangerous she knew it could break her.

His eyes blinked open sleepily, and in that moment he was almost endearing, half confused in his waking moments. When she smiled up at him shyly, he smiled back, making her heart beat double time in her chest.

“Good morning,” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. The simple action seemed more than sweet, more than gentle, and it made the pain in her heart twist, made her want to cry, although she couldn't quite figure out why. She kept the tears in check, buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“It's afternoon.”

“So it is.”

“I have the night shift tonight.”

“Then perhaps you should sleep,” He replied.

Her stomach rumbled, earning a laugh from him, a rich sound that soothed her shyness and embarrassment at the betrayal of her stomach.

“I have spare clothing in my car. Perhaps I could change and make you lunch?”

She nodded shyly and he pressed a light kiss to her lips and got up. His next move was to stretch, unashamed of his nakedness in the light. Not that she was complaining. There was not a single thing she could find wrong with him, not a single flaw. Content to stay in bed, half dazed by his beauty, she watched him dress in his dress pants and white, wrinkled shirt, the buttons half undone as he walked out of the room, a smile thrown over his shoulder.

Groaning, giggling giddiness had her pulling the blankets over her head in a moment of girlish delight. Any sense of right and wrong had flown out the window, replaced with the quite confidence that he wanted her, cared about her. An almost always absent fiance was a dim shadow, one completely burned away by the warmth and light of his smile. Her apartment was not a part of the world, and it didn't occur to her that she had broken it from that other reality, the one where he was forbidden.

Minutes later when the front door opened, she rushed out of bed, a sheet tangled around her midsection. More than anything she wanted to kiss him again, to touch him. Bu the sight that greeted her was one that stopped her short and almost made her drop the sheet. Panic flooded her system with adrenaline, and she would swear that her heart stopped before resuming it's angry beating. The sound of her pulse was loud in her ears, almost deafening in the silence.

“Someone got lucky last night, or five minutes ago,” Sango said with a raised brow, eyes taking stock of what was probably mussed hair and bruised lips.

“Sango-”

The front door opened again, and Sesshoumaru stepped in, a gym bag in hand. And then he stopped, seeing more than one set of eyes on him.

“Umm-”

No one said a word. Sango kept looking at him, and then at her. But when a smile bloomed on her face, she put both hands on her hips, made a satisfied humming sound, then walked into the kitchen.

“That was-” Sesshoumaru began, looking vaguely confused, a strange expression on his face.

“Sango.”

“That was Sango?” He asked, and she remembered what she'd told him the night before. Flushing hotly, she nodded and stumbled back to her room, tripping over the sheet. Knowing explanations were in order, she tossed on a pair of her sweatpants and a tank top, tried not to watch him dressing, although she did steal peeks now and again despite herself. When they'd both finished, she stood straight and headed for the door.

“I will stay for this, if you want.”

She did want it, because she wasn't sure what they were doing, and she hoped that he might tell her friend, maybe explain it so that not only Sango could understand, but herself as well. Nodding once, she was both surprised and gratified when he came close and laced his fingers in her own.

When they stepped into the kitchen, Sango was busying herself preparing food.

“I'm working tonight too, figured you'd want some lunch before a nap,” The woman said as she measured rice into the small steamer.

“Sango-”

“Kagome, if you try to make excuses, I won't listen. I understand,” Her friend said, finishing and putting the lid on the pot. Brown eyes met her own, and she was shocked by the strange gratification there. It was a vindicated sort of pleasure, one that made her feel uncomfortable and wary.

“Sango what-”

“You've only ever been with Inu Yasha before,” Sango said, making Sesshoumaru start.

“You-” He began.

“Medical school,” She quipped smartly, flushing when she saw the surprise flickering in his gaze.

“Either way, I understand. I don't care what you do, because you're my friend. And whatever choice you make, I'll support it.”

Something was going on, something she wasn't seeing, because Sango would never encourage lying or deception. Walking over to her table, she sat and regarded her friend through curious eyes. Whatever it was had Sango comfortable with a situation she would normally hate. They'd often watched the hospital dramas unfold, affairs and relationships, and been glad they had never felt the urge to find out what it was like. They'd both found the circle of lies involved distasteful. So what made her friend comfortable with it all of a sudden?

“What aren't you telling me?” She finally demanded. Sango had the grace to flush, but shrugged and walked over to the table to sit down.

“I remember college, and I've watched you these past few years. You've been so involved with work that Inu Yasha and I have been your outlets into the real world. Ever since the engagement, you've branched out more. And if having a fling before settling down is an urge, it's better to do it now. Besides, I couldn't begrudge you what you do.”

Sesshoumaru sat and watched her friend with considering eyes.

“Are you saying you approve?” He finally asked.

“I guess I do,” Sango admitted, shrugging.

“Why?”

“I've got my reasons, and they are my own,” The woman answered smartly, and Kagome felt a measure of pride for her friend, who faced Sesshoumaru without backing down. “But you two do need to be discreet. What if Inu Yasha had come in?”

That thought hadn't even occurred to her. Since Inu Yasha's all too common absences had started, she'd rarely thought about him at all, unless she was asked about her ring.

Her ring, which she noticed Sesshoumaru had removed at some point in the night.

“He is currently in another city, there is a problem with a merger, and he has been seeing to it personally.”

“Oh. Well,” Sango said, frowning slightly, brow furrowing. “Look, I don't care what you two do. I don't care if you end up eloping, because Kagome, you are my friend. Just be careful.”

She didn't have to be told twice.

“Now. You,” She said, gaze swinging back to Sesshoumaru. “If you're just out to hurt her, I'll warn you now. I'm a surgeon, and I know a hundred ways to destroy you and leave you alive to endure it, all without you knowing it until it's too late.”

“Sango!” She gasped, horrified. But Sesshoumaru tipped his head back and laughed, startling the both of them.

“I'm glad she has such a good friend,” He admitted moments later. “And I assure you, despite the nature of our relationship, my intentions are not to harm her.”

“Good,” Her friend said with a nod. “Now, care to tell me exactly how kinky she is, she still won't tell me all the juicy stuff.”

“Oh kami, Sango!” She hissed.

“If you don't, I'll tell him why Miroku was almost in tears when he got home the other day,” Her friend threatened.

“Don't you dare,” She hissed, eyes narrowing and cheeks blushing hotly at the memory.

“Pray tell, what did he walk in on?” Sesshoumaru rumbled, smirking at the two women.

“Me and this innocent, sweet little surgeon in our undies having a pillow fight. He thought I'd finally set up that threesome he always wanted. When I had to correct his assumption, it looked like he was going to cry. Almost broke my heart,” The other woman sighed dramatically. “But he did say he'd treasure the sight as long as he lived.”

“Sango, how could you-”

But he was laughing again, and she couldn't help but relax at the sound. It filled the apartment, making it warmer, softer. Since moving in, it had only been an apartment. With his laughter ringing through it, joined by Sango's and finally her own, it felt more like a home.

An hour later, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her as she snuggled deeper into blankets that still smelled of their lovemaking and especially of him. Feeling shy under that intense stare, she hid most of her face beneath the cover, only her eyes peeking above the top.

“Your friend is an interesting woman,” He observed. “She is not what I expected.”

Sango's casual acceptance of her affair was as strange to her as it was to him. The only explanation was that Sango felt exactly as she had said. That getting a fling out of the way before marriage was best done so it wouldn't do any damage after her vows. While the logic was incredibly flawed, it made sense in light of their friendship. Doubting that Sango would ever betray her, she nodded thoughtfully.

“Sango is my best friend.”

“It is good to have such friends,” He acknowledged, hand moving to her head to push the hair back from her eyes. “Kagome-” He stopped, eyes flicking back and forth as he searched for the right words to say whatever it was his creased, furrowed brows hinted at. “This, I do not wish to end it. But-”

Her heart plummeted into her stomach, because she was terrified that Sango finding out had given him second thoughts, had made him realize how dangerous the situation was, how easy it would be to be found out. Had she been thinking straight, been analyzing herself as she normally did, she knew she would have laughed, because only hours before she had been demanding he leave, and now she was terrified that he would.

“If this is too much for you, if it hurts you, I will respect your wishes.”

They'd made love a grand total of three times, four if she counted their first encounter. Logic told her that it was four times too many, and that she should end it. But logic clashed painfully with something else, twisted her heart in her chest until she could feel it cracking beneath the pressure.

“Not yet,” She whispered, the words coming out in a cracked whisper, surprising even her. The words hung in the quiet room, seeming to echo endlessly in her own head. Did they echo in his, were they enough, or did they only make him angry? His face shifted into a sort of neutral mask, one she realized she didn't like on him in the least.

“Alright,” He murmured, bending down and brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Not yet.”

There was a wealth of meaning in his tone, even though his face betrayed nothing. She watched him stand and go over to her blackout curtains, pull them shut, and then the dark outline of his body move over to the door.

“Dream deeply, Kagome,” He rumbled. She nodded, wondering if he could see her through the darkness. The door closed and clicked shut, and she snuggled down deeper into the covers, inhaling the scent of him that had saturated the fabric. Her words came back to her. Not yet. Which meant it would end. And he had agreed.

But not yet.

 ___________________________________

**A/N:** SO the Miroku bit was for R0o personally, seeing as how she promised me a cookie. I demand nothing less than white chocolate macadamia nut. For they are the fruit of the gods (I don't want any lip about them not being fruit, cookies transcend all food groups).

Anywho. Now the real perving begins. Hold on to your bloomers, and I hope none of you blush too easily.  


	9. Voyeur

One of my reviewers is making a cameo in this chapter. I won't call her out, but she's there. XD

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter Five: Voyeur**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inu Yasha. That simple. I do love my fandom however.**

**Kink Scale: Holiday Pineapple Punch**

Someone asked me about my kink scale. I'll explain now. The fruitier the description, the more outre the content. While there probably won't be any hunch punch in this story, there will definitely be lots of fruitiness. If you're still reading, then it probably won't bother you. However, due to the odd nature of the human psyche, I'll give another warning. -ahem- BONDAGE, DOMINATION, SUBMISSION, GIRL SEX, ANGRY MAN SEX, MORESOMES, S/M, TOYS, BUTTSECKS(surprise!) AND OTHER ASSORTED TAWDRY THINGS ARE JUST AROUND THE CORNER. -ahem- I'm done now.

 _________________________________________

Sesshoumaru brushed his thumb over her cheek before tilting up her chin, brow arched almost dangerously.

“I expect you to have a good time while you are away,” He murmured.

“Sango said we'll probably go to a bar,” She mumbled.

“I have given Sango the address of a club nearby that you both might enjoy,” He rumbled, lips against her own as he finished the statement, kissing her to punctuate it quite nicely. When he pulled away, she had to struggle not to give in to the urge to drop her travel bag and pull him back down to her lips. Instead, she nodded, flushing brightly as she opened the door to her apartment.

Since being discovered by Sango, they had only been able to see each other once, and that had been the night before. He'd been strangely intense, commanding. Remembering made her cheeks burn even brighter, if it were possible, and she stumbled out of her apartment and waited for him to exit.

“I'm going to go meet Sango at her apartment.”

“I'll walk you down.”

He didn't touch her until they were in the elevator and the doors were closed, but the kiss that followed was a scorching, hard press of his lips crashing against her own, his tongue hot and wet as he demanded entrance. Unable to refuse him anything, she gave in, moaned as the elevator took it's time going four floors down. It would be the last kiss she got before leaving, and though she hadn't seen him for almost a week, it felt different, going out of town and leaving him behind.

When the ding sounded through the steel box, she pulled back and tried to straighten any invisible signs that they had been kissing, even though the only signs were perhaps her flush cheeks and bruised lips. They stepped out and she led him to Sango's apartment. Not even bothering to knock, she stepped in, surprised by the chaos everywhere.

“Sango?” She asked. Things had been tossed, thrown, and there were a couple of broken items on the floor near the table. It looked like someone had burgled her best friend's apartment.

“Coming!” A voice called out from the back of the apartment, followed by a giggle, a gasp, and a long, low moan.

That ruled out burglary.

“It seems her fiance is wishing her farewell,” Sesshoumaru rumbled next to her.

“An enthusiastic one,” She giggled, unable to stay embarrassed when he was laughing in his own way. Several seconds later the door opened and Sango stumbled out, pony tail askew.

“Sorry,” The red faced surgeon giggled as she stumbled down the hall towards them, eyes glinting merrily. “Miroku and I lost track of time.”

“It happens,” Kagome said, rolling her eyes indulgently.

“Thanks again for the club tip,” Sango said as she walked to the door where her bags waited.

“Be sure that she has fun,” He rumbled, nodding his head once.

She felt like she was missing something.

“Will do,” Sango said with an impish grin, eyes flashing with something deeper than mischief.

“Where are we going?” She asked, turning to Sango. The woman was more likely to answer out of the two of them.

But Sango wasn't answering, and she felt a hand on each shoulder and his breath puffing into her ear.

“I have asked her not to tell you, and that she makes sure you have a good time on your trip. Just because it is work does not mean you cannot have fun.”

“What kind of fun?” She breathed, flushing under Sango's knowing gaze.

“There is dancing. Should you find any other diversions intriguing, you will call me first,” He rumbled quietly.

What could she possibly encounter that she would find as diverting as him?

“Well, we're out,” Sango said, grabbing her hand and dragging her out the door, ignoring her protests as she was dragged out and towards the elevator.

“What about Miroku?” Kagome hissed as they got in.

“Miroku knows,” Sango said, shrugging and still smiling. “You didn't think I'd keep it from him, did you?”

One more person that knew. But it was Miroku. Temptation to be afraid and the need to relax warred in her before she leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed.

“You okay?” Sango asked, grin fading as she sensed her friend's sudden downturn.

“I'm fine. I just get worried.”

“Your secret is safe with us, Kagome. You know we'd never tell.”

“I know,” She admitted with a nod. “It's just strange.”

Sango shrugged, attempting to look indifferent and failing spectacularly.

“Look, this is your last huzzah. God knows if I was entering a marriage and I'd only been with one man I would do it too.”

Something about the woman's tone bothered her, although she couldn't quite pin down what it was. Shrugging it off, she gripped her bag more tightly. The conference awaited, and that, above everything else, was more important.

 _________________________________________

“You're not wearing that, are you?” Sango demanded, nose wrinkling as she took in her friends form. Kagome looked down at her modest skirt and tank top. Wasn't that what people wore to clubs?

“Yes?”

Sango shook her head and opened her suitcase, pulling out more clothes than had a right (or the space) to be there. Reflecting on the veritable closet full of clothing that had been pulled out, she noticed that most of them were...

Definitely _not_ what she would normally wear.

“This would be amazing,” Sango said with definite confidence, holding up a shorter black skirt.

It would expose the tops of her thigh highs. There was no way she could wear something like that.

“Come on Kagome, it'll be perfect,” Sango cajoled. “And Sesshoumaru told you to have fun.”

How was the itty bitty black skirt supposed to help her have fun?

“Sango-”

“Please, Kagome. Come on, we don't get to have girl's nights anymore. This will be perfect. You'll be a man killer in this.”

She gave in. Sango had become far more pushy as of late, not that she was necessarily complaining. There was a sort of closeness that they had regained, as if they were back in college, and she had realized only days before that it was something she had missed. Having her best friend completely back was worth some...possibly quite a bit, actually, mortification.

The black skirt did show the tops of her black thigh highs, and the straps of a garter belt that was both insubstantial and firm. Sango had admired it, reminding her that at some point they needed to go to Tourou's for a girl's day.

“The shoes will have to do, although they're not what I would have picked. Let me think,” Sango said, eyes going up and down her form. As if hit by lighting, she started and went for Kagome's bag, pulling out her lavender dress shirt and holding it out expectantly.

“Sango-”

“Trust me?” Her friend wheedled. She nodded and took the shirt, tugging it on and beginning to button it up. Sango shook her head, pulling her hands away so that it was left open.

“You look amazing,” Sango breathed, grinning like a cat.

She felt like a teenager. A poorly dressed one.

“Come on, let's go. It's already nine and the cab called up ten minutes ago,” Sango urged, grabbing her wallet and their phones and shoving them in her bra casually. Kagome watched, stupefied, as her friend adjusted her bra.

“Sango-”

“Hmm?”

“My phone-”

“I'll notice if it rings, no worries,” Sango laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of their hotel room. Given little choice but to follow, she followed her friend outside and down to the lobby, trying not to fall over in her heels. Sango was only too enthusiastic about their destination, and her stomach was beginning to dissolve into butterflies. The cabby only nodded when he heard the address and began driving while Sango wiggled in her seat.

“Sango, where are we going?” Kagome demanded for the hundredth time since leaving their apartment complex the day before.

“”You'll see. I've never been, but I've heard of it,” Sango said, voice barely above a whisper, although it was strained, as if she was afraid of shouting out the words in her obvious excitement. Feeling even more nervous, Kagome fidgeted and clasped her hands, worried her fingers and lower lips in agitation as the cabby continued. They didn't go very far, they were still in a decent part of town, but the building they stopped in front of looked almost like a vacant warehouse. Didn't clubs have people lined up outside the door, or at least a bouncer?

More and more worried about where they were going, she stepped out of the cab and followed her friend hesitantly. The door was painted a vivid red, the only sign that it was different from any other building.

“Ready?” Sango asked in a breathless whisper.

No. No she wasn't.

But she took her friend's hand and waited as Sango knocked on the door with her fist. The red door swung open and she stared, shocked at the sight of the giants guarding the door.

 _Two_ bouncers.

“Love transforms the king into a slave,” Sango breathed. One of the giants nodded and stepped aside, revealing a long, dark corridor. Dimly, thumps and thuds echoed, the sound of loud music playing.

A sense of excitement overtook her as they stepped in. Obviously this place was a secret, and exclusive. Or perhaps it was the dark corridor, the intimidating bouncers with their tattoos and piercings, or the password, that made it seem so. But it fueled a sense of fantasy, that they were stepping away from the world. As they stepped closer to the next door, the vibrations in the floor grew stronger. Sango inhaled shakily and gave her another excited grin. It was difficult not to be caught up in her friend's nervous anticipation, even if she didn't know quite what to anticipate.

She opened the door for Sango and stepped in behind her, surprised by the simplicity of the layout. A dance floor dominated most of the lower floor, and lights above it flashed, washing it in a myriad of colors. Music vibrated up through the floor and made her toes tingle. On one wall was a bar, and another a lounge sort of area with stairs leading up from it to a second floor.

“Let's get a drink, and then do some dancing,” Sango said, dragging her over to the bar. A short, skinny girl with pink streak in her black hair a ring flashing in her nose greeted them as they both took a stool.

“What can I get for you lovely ladies?”

“What's the house drink?” Sango demanded. The girl's bright green eyes narrowed playfully.

“Kura's Aureola,” She said with a smirk. Sango nodded enthusiastically and the girl turned, grabbing two shot glasses and beginning to move the bottles on the shelves with surprising speed as she poured. The only one Kagome caught sight of was the peach snapps bottle. It wasn't a terribly alcoholic liquor, so she didn't worry as the woman poured drinks.

She did worry when the woman leaned against the counter, her full breasts pushed up by the wood as she put a shot glass between her breasts.

Sango didn't even hesitate as she dipped her head to the woman's exposed cleavage and wrapped her lips around the shot glass, bringing her head up and back quickly, the liquid disappearing as her throat swallowed. Her hand came up and took the glass away and she inhaled deeply, then smiled as if she'd won the lottery.

“Your turn sweetheart,” The bartender said, smiling as she moved down the bar a foot and arranged herself again, the shot glass between her breasts.

A thousand things could go wrong.

She could spill the shot and make a fool of herself.

Or the glass could fall out of her mouth, or worse, into it.

She could choke.

She could breathe too hard on the woman's breasts and offend her.

“Come on Kagome, it's just a shot,” Sango laughed.

Nervously she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the shot glass and repeated Sango's motions, trying not to sputter when something much stronger than alcohol burned her throat. Swallowing as quickly as she could, she moved the glass away and inhaled sharply, the liquor still burning her throat.

“See?” Sango laughed over the music.

It wasn't that bad, actually.

“That's for all the first timers,” Kura laughed. “Now that your cherries have been popped, what'll you have?”

“Whatever you suggest!” Sango shouted over the music. The grinning bartender grabbed two clean shot glasses and tipped more bottles with dizzying speed before sliding them across the counter.

“What is it?” Sango asked.

“Feelin' Lucky,” The bartender laughed.

“To having a good time,” Sango cheered, toasting Kagome's raised shot glass before throwing it back. Kagome did the same, feeling the burn of the liquor.

“You ladies feelin' brave?” The bartender asked.

“Always,” Sango boasted. Kagome wanted to shoot her friend.

“I got something for ya,” The woman said, grabbing two tumblers and then juggling several bottles as she filled them halfway. Her smile as she slid them across the bar raised an alarm in Kagome's head.

“Shoot these back.”

“What are they?” Kagome demanded this time, noticing Sango already had the glass halfway to her lips.

“Slingshot.”

“Bottom's up Kagome!” Sango shouted over the music.

Wondering which was worse, getting drunk in a club she'd never been to, or getting drunk with her best friend in front of people wearing nothing but an itty bitty outfit that would probably have put a hooker to shame.

She threw the glass back.

It tasted...Fruity. Sweet. And it burned the minute she inhaled. Gasping for breath she turned to Sango, who was grinning madly.

“Let's go dance!” Sango shouted, taking her hand and pulling her over to the dance floor. Several other people were already dancing, all of them either wearing some sort of dark or shiny leather, and some wearing next to nothing.

Feeling self conscious and oddly overdressed, she fumbled next to Sango, who was moving her hips sinuously.

“Come on Kagome, we'll probably never come here again, let loose, enjoy,” Sango shouted in her ear over the music. Her blood warmed in the crush of people and she began moving.

At first everything was stilted, she felt awkward and out of place. Sango grabbed her hips and moved against her as if trying to bring her out of her shell. Eventually she noticed that no one was staring, no one was watching her or laughing, and little by little, began to relax.

Music thrummed through her, heavy and thudding, pulsing with her blood as it pumped through her body. She didn't understand the words, but it sounded smoky, suggestive. Guitars crashed discordantly and trilled through her.

Sango's hands were pulling her closer, and she was moving against her friend's body. Every nerve was coming alive, hot as the alcohol filtered into her blood, her head growing lighter with each gasped breath as she put her arms over her head and moved her hips. The air was thick and smelled of sweat and musk, making her dizzy as she felt Sango grind against her.

Pulse, throb. Pulse, throb.

Her flesh hummed with sensitivity as Sango's hands traveled up her sides and arms until their hands were linked. Her breasts pressed into her own. In the flashing lights Sango's eyes were fever bright and focused, her top lip pulled between her teeth.

Despite the bra she wore, another lace creation of Tourou's, she could feel Sango's nipples, could feel her own hardening as their bodies slid against one another's. A long, low moan came out as Sango's hands came back down, slid over her back and rested on her hips before the delicate, deft hands of the other surgeon moved below her shirts to rest on the bare skin of her waist.

The kiss was thrilling, soft, hot, wet. It was not the clumsy, awkward kiss shared in college. Sango's tongue slid over her own and plumbed the depths of her mouth, tangled with her tongue as a moan vibrated on their lips. Long dark hair was soft in her fingers as she pulled Sango closer, moved her hips as her friend's hands tightened on her waist. Heat fanned into flame exploded in her belly, ran down the lengths of veins and arteries and set every inch of her on fire.

When Sango pulled back, her lips were wet with moisture, her eyes glazed as she drug Kagome over to the lounge area. Stumbling behind, she sat down, saw other couples, sometimes more, of all orientations, kissing passionately and locked in embraces. There was only one chair left, and Sango sat, pulling her down into her lap.

The phone was in front of her, she realized in a dim, dazed way that it was calling Sesshoumaru. Taking it from Sango's hand she put it to her ear and waited, only to moan just as he answered, courtesy of Sango's lips dusting lightly over her neck.

“Kagome?” An amused voice asked. “What are you up to?”

“Ask him if I can play with you,” Sango demanded as her tongue swiped over the already sensitive flesh. Biting back another moan, she was trying to form the words on a thick tongue when his laughter rang through the phone.

“Her hands and lips must stay above your waist, Kagome, and yours may go no lower than her own,.” He said, voice ringing out clear despite the loud music. “Tell her what the rules are, now.”

“There are rules,” Kagome gasped as Sango nuzzled her neck, breath hot on the sensitive hollow.

“What rules?” Sango purred, tongue swiping out again to punctuate her question.

“Your hands and lips can't go below my waist,” She said, parroting Sesshoumaru's words. “And mine can't go below yours.” It didn't occur to her that she'd never thought about anything below the waist happening, because her sex was throbbing, heat already pooling deliciously in her core.

Sango made a miffed sound, and she could feel lips pouting against her neck.

“I agree,” Sango said, lips latching onto her neck.

“Good,” Sesshoumaru rumbled into the phone, obviously hearing the agreement. “Her fiance also agrees with the terms. Have a good time, Kagome.”

She couldn't help but shiver at the strangely pleased sound of his tone, or the feel of her friend pulling at her dress shirt, trying to pull it off.

“Good night, Sesshoumaru.”

“Good night.”

The phone went dead and she closed it. Immediately it disappeared from her hand into the depths of Sango's cleavage and her over shirt was coming off, exposing more skin. The music changed, became smoky, slinky. It felt like it was a spiral she was following down into some deep, dark place.

Sango's hands were under the bottom of her shirt, moving over the soft skin her belly. A slick tongue was moving along her shoulder before teeth nipped at her shoulder. A sharp cry rang out, cutting through the music and startling her. She turned to the noise, saw two men getting up, one with long hair tangled in the others hand as he was pushed to bend over one of the small tables.

Pants came down with surprising efficiency, baring tanned, strong legs and an equally tanned ass.

“Sango,” Kagome breathed, shuddering as her friend's hands moved higher, cupping her breasts through her lacy bra.

“I've never seen two guys fuck,” Sango breathed excitedly, nuzzling her neck.

They weren't really going to-right there? In front of everyone?!

But the taller man was unzipping his fly and positioning himself, intentions obvious. Hands tangled in hair again, drawing the bottom's head back at a sharp angle. Something was growled, too low for her to make out the words over the music, but her eyes were trained on the man's thick cock resting against the other man's cheek. Another sharp cry pierced through the sound of the music and Sango's fingers pinched her nipples, twisted them through the lace, making her arch and cry out.

They were not the only ones engaging in more obvious activities. She saw someone kneeling, head between a woman's legs, and one man was stroking his exposed dick as the two men in the center spoke words she couldn't hear.

“How wet are you?” Sango breathed in her ear as one hand left her breast and pulled up her skirt, hiking it until it was crumpled around her upper thighs, exposing the dark lace underwear and garter belt straps.

A low, guttural moan, too low and male to be her own, erupted, and her eyes were fixed on the sight of the man penetrating his partner, sliding into him in one long, slow, smooth stroke. His hand was still tangled in the others hair, pulling his head back and stretching his throat. The top's teeth were grinding together and he looked almost as if he was in pain as he pushed deeper, more and more of his dick disappearing from view.

Her hand slipped down to the black lace of her panties, found the fabric soaked as she pressed against her mound with her fingers.

“How wet are you?” Sango gasped, hand slipping between them. Shifting to give her friend room, she mewled plaintively as Sango pushed her shirt up and tugged one cup of her bra down, exposing her breast to everyone. But no one was looking at them, at her, all eyes were focused intently on the tableau before them.

“So wet,” Kagome breathed, fingers rubbing her sex through her panties.

“Fuck, they're so hot,” Sango breathed. Kagome could feel her friend's arm moving, could tell that Sango was eagerly moving her hand over her cunt as the two men picked up their pace. The sounds of flesh slapping together echoed through the music, their moans and cries only teasing at the darkness in her as she spiraled.

Ignoring that she was in a club, that there were dozens of people around her, she slipped her hand inside of her panties, shivering as her fingers made contact with warm, slick flesh.

It wasn't sweet or gentle in the least. The two men crashed against each other in frantic, hard thrusts. Muscles flexed and she watched as the top bent over his partner, bit savagely into his flesh and pulling at it with his teeth. The cry that rang out made her wetter, made her cunt throb as she imagined the bite ringing through her. Sango twisted her nipple viciously, but in her half delirious state of lust she moaned, panted for more. Teeth nipped harder and harder at her shoulder, sending waves of cold through the heat, both clashing against each other in her blood in dizzying bursts.

The man drew back, his hands going to the others back and raking short, blunt nails down his back, leaving red marks in their wake before settling on his hips and pulling him back. The bottom was crying out, face a mask of pained ecstasy as he was jerked back against his partner again and again. Something strange fluttered in her field of vision and she looked, saw him stroking his cock in time with the thrusts. Needing something, anything to penetrate her, to fill the aching emptiness, she slipped first one finger then two into herself, ground her palm against her clit as Sango writhed beneath her.

Leaning forward she was stopped from falling completely forward by Sango's hand squeezing her breast and keeping her upright as she curled her fingers inside of herself. The two men began bucking harder, shouts echoing through the room and over the music as they viciously came together. Nails dug into tender flesh and the bottom gripped the table with one hand while the other worked furiously between his legs. The almost feral man fucking him threw his head back, face a mixture of utter ecstasy and satisfaction.

“Turn around,” Sango whimpered, moving her. The sudden movement stunned her, pushed the tendrils of orgasm away. Dazed from the sudden change, she got up and turned, allowed Sango to tug her forward. “Legs on the arms.”

She straddled the chair, let her legs spread over the arms of the chair, exposing her soaked panties and breasts to her best friend, who immediately pulled her down into another kiss. She could feel a hand between them, knew what Sango was doing. This was more than what they had shared before, and she knew that something was changing.

Heady, breathless, wanting, she didn't care. Everything in her world was focused on her friend's lips, soft and so different from a man's, on hers, on the throbbing tightness between her legs as her own hand slipped her panties to the side and slipped over slick flesh. The outside world was a thrumming, pulsing beat in time with her heart as she pushed her fingers inside of herself. Gasping for breath when Sango finally pulled away, her inhale turned into a throaty moan as lips closed over her exposed nipple. Teeth scraped over the hard nub, sending a delicious shudder through her.

Her other breast was exposed, the bra completely pulled down as Sango's palmed it, pinched her nipple, licked and sucked while pleasuring herself. Moans vibrated over her nipple, through her as the tightness contracted even further, pulling her deeper into a state of pure sensation. Her free hand tangled in her friend's hair, pulled her closer as her orgasm encircled her, wrapped her in it's threads and suffocated her, wrenching a cry from her throat that was foreign even to her ears.

Sango bucked beneath her, pulled back from her breast as her cry rang out over the music.

Boneless and limp, she sagged forward, buried her face in Sango's neck and unbound hair as she gasped for breath. Their chest dragged in deep lungfuls of air, rising and falling in counterpoint to one another. Sweat slicked skin salted each inhale as Sango trembled beneath her.

Awareness did not fully come back, not when Sango helped her get off of the chair, or when she straightened her clothing. The lavender shirt was forgotten as they leaned against one another for support, hands clasped and stumbled to the door in wordless agreement. Kagome didn't think about how lucky they were to catch one of the two cabs idling outside of the club as they almost fell into the back seat. Sango gave them the address for the hotel, and she curled into her friend's warmth, lost in the euphoric daze.

When they got to their room, she didn't find it strange that when she stripped and crawled into bed, Sango joined her. If anything she was floating somewhere above the world, only aware of her friend's arm going over her waist as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

 _________________________________________

The next morning came with the abrupt, shrill shrieking of her alarm. Groaning, she reached blindly towards the noise and thumped her hand several times, searching for the snooze button. When her hand finally -painfully- banged on it, she blinked sleepily and shifted. Immediately she saw that she was not only not alone, but pressed intimately to her best friend, their legs tangled together and hair tangling around them.

She'd sort of...what? Slept with her best friend? Another woman? They'd done...Something, obviously, more than just masturbate in the same room. That they'd done it in a club, in front of dozens of strangers, wasn't even as important as the fact that she'd done something with another woman. Or that she'd enjoyed it.

Her best friend.

Sango.

“Morning,” Sango greeted, eyes opening blearily.

“Good morning,” She greeted.

Several minutes of awkward silence made the hotel room seem much bigger than it was.

“Last night happened, didn't it?” Sango's voice was both afraid and hopeful, and Kagome fought the initial urge to flinch. It had happened, and despite it's strangeness in the light of day, she couldn't, wouldn't, freak out and hurt her friend that way. They'd both done it, and she'd never tried to stop it.

Which meant at some point in the -near- future, she needed to seriously look at what she thought her sexual preferences had been. Because there had been a hint of wanting to do more, and that should have frightened her. However, given her strange relationship with Sesshoumaru and their activities, it didn't frighten her. It only made her...Heaven help her, curious?

“It did,” Kagome admitted.

“I never thought we'd do something like that,” Sango admitted.

“I thought you'd been with other women.”

“Yeah, but I never thought you, I mean, it wasn't weird or bad. Just surreal.”

Sango's own inability to name what had happened reflected her own feelings.

“We won't be weird now, will we?” Fear and hope, again.

“I don't think so,” Kagome admitted. “It wasn't bad, just new.”

“It gets easier. And you came really loudly. I'd say you enjoyed it,” Sango said seconds later, a grin lighting up her features as she relaxed.

“I'm turning into as big of a pervert as you are,” She groused good naturedly, letting Sango snuggled into her warmth. “Who would have thought?”

“It's always the quiet ones,” Sango snickered. Huffing indignantly, Kagome grabbed one of the pillows and pushed it over her friend's head, laughing when the other woman wriggled away, hair a tangled mess. Sango shrieked loudly and scrambled for one of the pillows, and soon they were engaged in an all out pillow fight that ended with both of them breathless and laughing next to each other on the bed.

“It's been so long since we've been like this,” Sango sighed happily. “I've missed it. Why did we stop?”

“I think we both became involved with our work,” Kagome admitted. “We let it take over.”

Sango was quiet for several moments before rolling over and throwing an arm around her waist. The embrace was gentle, but solid, and Sango bumped her forehead against her own.

“When I started experimenting with Miroku, I felt so lost, because I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. I started pulling away, terrified that I'd let something slip and lose you. For awhile there things felt really superficial. I'm sorry.”

“Promise it won't happen again?” She asked, hugging her friend.

“Promise,” She agreed.

 _________________________________________

Returning to Tokyo came with a breathless, grateful sigh. Both she and Sango had eschewed sleeping alone in favor of hanging out at night and openly discussing almost everything and then passing out in a friendly cuddle. The only taboo subject had been the nature of her relationship with Sesshoumaru. But fantasies, ideas and old memories came pouring out. For the first time in years she felt connected to her friend again, and it had been like being in college, only they were both more open about themselves, and while Sango had admitted to things that made her feel like a novice sexually, she had in turn shocked her friend with the things she and Sesshoumaru were doing.

But now that she was in the taxi, on her way back to her apartment, every thought was centered on Sesshoumaru and seeing him again. Sango held her hand and they both smiled anxiously, excitedly, eager to get home. When they erupted from the taxi, both of them were laughing with good cheer, throwing themselves into the lobby and running for the elevator like children.

Sango shouted out her farewell as the doors closed again and she ran for her door. She fumbled with her keys, hoping he was already there, hoping he was waiting for her. When she stumbled in, her apartment was dark, and she realized she was alone.

Feeling her excitement plummet into disappointment, she dropped her suitcase by the door and walked over to her couch. She told herself not to be disappointed, that it wasn't possible or even safe that he come to her every night. But still the tight feeling in her chest persisted, resisting all logic.

Drearily she removed her clothes and the jewelry Totosai had bestowed on her and took a shower. Just as drearily she put the jewelry back on and crawled into bed, not feeling up to eating. His absence burned, made her want to cry, but she forced herself to keep the tears in check.

The red digits on her clock changed, and she watched them, hugging herself more and more tightly, willing herself to sleep. It was restless, dreamless sleep, and when the bed next to her shifted, she started, almost falling off of the mattress when she turned and saw the shadows lifting the blanket.

“Father demanded my presence at a charity party tonight,” He whispered softly, pulling her close. “I'm sorry I'm late.”

She clung to him, pressed her body into his. “I missed you,” She admitted.

“I missed you too.”

Despite her exhaustion, she moved against him, needing the comfort of completion. He was gentle, and demanded nothing, instead moving over her and beginning to slowly rock back and forth. Their lips met in the darkness, and they exchanged breaths and moans, gasps and whispered tangles of words that jumbled together into senselessness. Tangled and sweaty, they fell asleep still connected, bodies giving in to exhaustion.

 _________________________________________

 

The password to the club is a line from a poem by Rumi. I highly encourage all of you to look up his poetry. An 'aureola' is a real drink with peach snapps, whiskey and gin, and a 'feelin' lucky' has bacardi 151, bacardi limon, and coke. A slingshot is a reference to an online comic I adore reading, 'girls with slingshots' (nsfw). Also, I -know- they didn't pay for their drinks. Shite happens.

So. This chapter really didn't want to be written, namely because describing man sex is so hard. I've never seen two men make love. I've seen them make hate. Hot, hot hate. That and I've been ultra worried about how people would receive the Sango/Kagome thing. There will be more in the future. Sorry if it's not your thing, and it won't be central, but it will happen.

Also, I'm sick again, with farmageddon. Reviews might cure me. Who knows? Try anyway?


	10. Need(le)

**The Best Laid Plans**

**By: The Hatter Theory**

**Chapter 10: Need(le)**

**Disclaimer:** I hereby own up to the fact that I don't own Inu Yasha. I just love perving out the characters.

 **A/N:** I truly am sorry it took so long to get this out. I have rewritten this a couple of times. I made the mistake of letting a flame get to me, and I had written a 'and rocks fell on them from the sky and they all died' sort of ending, and then a chapter where the smut got deliriously extreme just to make people mad, and I don't want to punish the wonderful people that do like this story by posting such drivel. So I took a small break from working on it and let myself cool off. This chapter is not 'polished' but it is what I had initially wanted to write. I hope you all enjoy. This is for everyone that has been patient with me and the plot of this story.

Also...I got fanart. It's amazing, and both ego stroking and humbling. Thank you Raythe.

 _______________________________________

“Did you plan for it to happen?” She finally asked as he drew small paths on her stomach with his fingers. The question had been nagging at her, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know if he had or not.

“No,” He admitted. “It's obvious that she has an interest in you, but I gave you both the address and entry code so that you could have fun in a relaxed atmosphere. Did you?”

She nodded shyly, glad that he hadn't planned it. The thought that he had smacked of a sort of manipulation she wasn't comfortable contemplating.

“I'm glad you had fun,” He rumbled, spanning his hand over her stomach and moving lower. “Her fiance and I had a nice conversation,” He added as her hips twitched when his fingers slipped over the ridge of a hipbone. Her breathless giggle was soft, turned into a gasp as he slid his hand over her pubic mound.

“Sesshoumaru-”

“Would you like to know what we were talking about?”

Did it matter? His hand was smoothing over her sex, finger slipping between the seam of her lips and resting against her. Surely nothing was as important as the warmth of his hand and the promise of satisfaction.

“Kagome, you're not answering.” She knew it was a gentle command to answer, and she bucked her hips, hoping it would be answer enough. But obviously she had done something wrong, as his hand was moving away from her sex, back up over her stomach to rest just below her breast.

“What?” She sighed, trying not to rub her legs together to sooth the sudden need for friction.

“I was going to tell you we had planned a gift for both you and your friend, but perhaps I'll have to tell Miroku that he should take Sango alone.”

“I'm sorry,” She sighed, snuggling into him. “You're just very distracting.”

“And you have trouble dealing with distractions?”

“When it's you, yes,” She admitted.

“We'll have to fix that then,” He chuckled, hand sliding back down to cup her sex. She spread her legs, already anticipating what would follow when he patted her mound and rolled away, taking the sheet tangled around his body with him.

“What-”

“You need to shower,” He rumbled. “And go have lunch with Sango. Miroku has already told her. I will be back to pick you up tonight.”

He was dressing, damn him. Not picking up where he left off. And he was doing it as if he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

This was different, and she wasn't entirely sure she liked it. But he finished dressing and leaned over to kiss her, ignoring her frown and chuckling lightly.

“It will be worth the wait. Now go shower, Kagome.”

And she was forgiving him, because the way he said her name always made her want to curl up next to him and just leave the world behind. She smiled and nodded, kissed back lightly and watched him go.

Half an hour later she was toweling off her hair when she was hugged from behind, making her jump out of her skin as arms wound around her nude form. A feminine chuckle greeted her, letting her immediately relax as she looked over her shoulder into the brown eyes of her best friend, noting the mischievous glint to them.

“You're going to be the death of me,” She muttered.

“Doubtful,” Sango laughed, releasing her and flopping onto the bed. “Hurry up, I want to visit this shop you told me about. Miroku even told me I had to buy some new things,” She said, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

Kagome felt the change of their relationship, but reflected that it wasn't bad at all. Sango seemed livelier, herself as well, and closer, like when they had been much younger and less concerned with the world. Even as she finished drying off Sango was going through her closet, pulling out articles of clothing and making a mess of the bed as she threw together four different outfits, then a fifth, then a sixth.

“Why don't you ever wear these?” Sango asked, looking down at the ensembles.

She did wear them, just not in the combinations Sango had put together. Somehow her friend had matched things she had never even considered, and each outfit was better than anything she could have dreamed up.

“I like this one,” She said, pointing to the blue shirt and black corduroy pants. Sango nodded, watching as she pulled on panties and hooked her bra. While she dressed her friend was shuffling through her closet, exclaiming over all of the shoes that had not previously been there, emerging once more when she had a pair of black flats in hand.

They splurged for a cab once they got out, and Kagome listened to Sango's excited chatter, most of it guessing as to what the men had planned for them that evening. By the time they got to Tourou's shop, the guesses were so outrageous, so outlandish that they were both doubled over with laughter, attracting the notice of passerby as they wiped tears from their face, trying to somewhat subdue themselves before going into the quiet lingerie store.

Tourou beamed when she came out, greeted them both and took them back, all the while exclaiming over Sango's proportions excitedly. Sango and the woman exchanged friendly banter and Kagome couldn't stop herself from giggling as the saleswoman came back with several items, noting aloud that she had rarely had a customer that needed such sizes, offering a steep discount.

In the end, both she and Sango exited the shop laughing, two large bags in hand before heading to Jakotsu's, who began gushing over both herself and her friend.

______________________________________

She was just getting up from a nap when her door opened and he strolled in, looking for all the world like the cat that had gotten the cream. Still half asleep, she stumbled into him and hugged, surprised when he moved back and looked down at her, smirk in place.

“Come, we have an appointment to keep,” He told her, smiling at her obvious confusion.

“What?”

“I have made an appointment for you, remember? If we do not hurry, we will be late. I will not tolerate lateness.”

Where had this Sesshoumaru come from? In the past weeks he'd been authoritative, but it had been softer, more gentle. Stunned by the shift, she followed him out of her room, surprised to see Sango and Miroku waiting. Sango looked giddy, almost ready to burst out of her skin, and when the men began walking ahead of them, she fell into step next to her.

“Did he tell you what we're doing yet?” Sango whispered.

“No.”

“Miroku's been tight lipped too, but giddy. I'm worried.”

Worried was not the proper term for it, because Sesshoumaru and Miroku teaming up made her want to head for the hills. And now that she thought about it, there had definitely been a note of pleasure in Sesshoumaru's tone. That added to a giddy Miroku did not bode well for either herself or Sango.

Suddenly the outlandish, strange guesses of earlier in the day didn't seem so improbable.

The men continued on silently, leading them to Sesshoumaru's silver car More than slightly put out that she and Sango were designated to the back seat, she crossed her arms and legs, resolving to pout until she knew what was going on. Sango imitated her, but huffed silently now and again.

“You know, brats are punished,” Sesshoumaru intoned from the passenger seat in front of her.

“We aren't even doing anything,” She muttered petulantly.

“You're the ones being vague and 'mysterious',” Sango added sarcastically.

“Does spanking actually work?” Miroku asked, turning to Sesshoumaru.

“You wouldn't,” His fiance hissed.

“It can, if done properly.”

“Care to give a demonstration later?”

It was her turn to hiss angrily.

“If she continues in such a manner, I would be delighted.”

Sango turned to her, eyes glinting with something that wasn't quite anger and several notes from fear. What it was though, she couldn't quite name.

“This is _your_ fault,” She declared decidedly.

“ _My_ fault?”

“You brought him around, and now Miroku's an even bigger pervert.”

“Sango, hush. We're almost there.”

The conversation stopped, and both she and Sango leaned forward in their seats, trying to figure out which building they were being taken to. But they were in a suburban area, the houses set up in neat rows on either side of the street. Confused, she looked to Sango, who shrugged uncertainty.

When they parked, it was in someone's driveway, and Sesshoumaru opened her door. She stepped out, feeling nervous tension knot her stomach. Obviously hesitant, she let Sesshoumaru take her hand and lead her to the front door, which opened promptly.

By an extremely tall man with long hair in nothing but a pair of jeans and a few choice piercings.

“Welcome, we've been expecting you,” He greeted, smiling brightly.

Even more worried now that she had seen the strange man, she clenched Sesshoumaru's hand more tightly. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she saw that Sango's eyes were shining with anticipation.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He shushed her, leading her through the house in the wake of he man, who she noted was taller than Sesshoumaru by several inches. Deep, lush carpeting ended abruptly at a door, and the man opened it, smiling at them mischievously before walking down ahead of them.

Stairs led down, and Sesshoumaru had to tug her forward. Nausea threatened, and she tried to fight the urge to faint as they walked down into the dim shadows of a basement. A thousand different scenarios played out in her head. Sesshoumaru opened it and gestured for her to step in. When she did, her shoes clicked onto tile flooring, and she almost didn't step further in.

The room was set up with tile floor and walls, and there were two chairs and a gurney, along with two hospital beds with stirrups.

What was she doing here?

“Kagome, we would like to come in,” Miroku murmured, forcing her to take several more steps forward into the blindingly white space. The air was peppered with disinfectant, and she was reminded of the surgery at the hospital.

“What is this?” Sango asked, obviously as discomfited as she.

“Hello,” A voice said, coming out of another door. “I was just getting everything sterilized.”

What would need to be sterilized?

The man, obviously not asian, had blue black hair and silver glinted from different spots in his face, flashing in the bright lighting. His clothing seemed normal enough, jeans and a black shirt, but his arms were decorated in a spiral of tattoos. He too was easily a head taller than Sesshoumaru. More noticeable, or striking, were the bands of black metal around his neck and wrists, thicker than her own, flatter and devoid of jewels. Had Totosai been the one to make them as well? Were there matching bands around his ankles, like the ones she wore?

“Good evening Krig, I'm glad you were able to take us today.”

“No problem,” He said, smiling brightly. “Hello, you must be Kagome,” The giant greeted, coming forward and offering his hand.

Unsure of what to do, she took it and shook lightly, surprised by the man's gentle grip and mischievous eyes behind his glasses.

“What, I mean, hello, nice to meet you,” She murmured.

The man greeted Sango and Miroku next, and Sesshoumaru looked down at her, smirking smugly.

What was going on?

“He didn't tell you, did he?” Krig asked, a dark eyebrow eyebrow quirking up.

“Tell me what?”

“You're a bad man, Sesshoumaru,” The man said instead, turning to him and shaking a finger in his face. But his tone held nothing but delight.

“Krig is a piercing artist,” He explained.

Piercing? He was joking, right?

Sango squealed in excitement. Krig chuckled, and the door behind them opened. Turning so quickly she was afraid of falling, she saw the man that had greeted them step in,now wearing a shirt and his long hair tied in a tail.

“Why are we at a piercing artist's home?”

“Because there is something I would like you to get. I will let Krig explain.”

“Everyone, this is my partner, Gin. He will be assisting me today. Now, please take a seat on the beds,” The man said, gesturing to the medical beds with stirrups. Not comforted in the least, she walked over and hopped onto the bed, noting that hard plastic was still damp from disinfectant.

“Sesshoumaru and Miroku have informed me they would like you to have a certain piercing. Now, before I go any further, I will state that I will not pierce the unwilling.”

“What piercing?” Sango asked, obviously intrigued.

“It's called a vertical hood piercing. It goes through the hood over your clitoris-”

“What?” She croaked.

“It is one of the fastest healing piercings that can be done, and it's very rewarding sexually,” Krig continued. “I'm sure that as doctors you know the hood is a very thin tissue, and regenerates quickly.”

Her head was swimming, and she turned to Sesshoumaru, who was staring down at her with an expression of gentle encouragement.

“But, I mean, it's a needle, down there,” Sango whimpered. “I thought you wanted me to get a belly button ring or something.”

A belly button ring would be infinitely more comfortable.

“It's not that bad,” Krig reasoned. “I've done hundreds of them for other women. I can say from experience that the women don't seem to feel the pain for more than a minute and that it's one of the nicer piercings to get.”

Said the man with a pierced eyebrow and lip.

“The belly button is actually worse, especially in terms of healing.”

Was she having this conversation?

“If you do not want it, you do not have to get it, and if you do not like it, it can be taken out,” Sesshoumaru reasoned quietly. She bit her lip, anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

Needle. Genitalia. Looking up to Sesshoumaru again, she saw the gentle command in his eyes.

A mark, just like the bands. One that _wouldn't_ come out, that much she knew. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

“I think I'd like to,” Sango said quietly.

She fingered the bracelet on her hand, fiddling with it before nodding mutely. Even though her stomach bottomed out in that moment, she felt a flicker of something strange at the quiet pleasure in Sesshoumaru's eyes.

“That settles it,” Krig cheered. The man's smile was infectious, and a nervous giddiness set in, making her lightheaded.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” She murmured. Sesshoumaru took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“I've got some release papers you must sign. They stay confidential unless there is a lawsuit. Please go over them carefully,” Gin explained, holding out two clipboards.

In a matter of minutes she had gone over the simple contract and signed it, then nervously shed her clothing and laid down, putting her feet in the stirrups. She felt something brush her arm and she turned, seeing Sango's hand held out, a flash of fear burning in her brown eyes. Comforted by the fact that her friend was as nervous as she, she gripped her hand and tried to smile.

The feeling of someone shifting her sex made her jump and she looked between her legs, surprised to see that not only was Krig's hair pulled back, but that he'd donned a surgical mask and wore surgical gloves.

“Krig and Gin are both very meticulous about safety,” Sesshoumaru explained.

“It's why we're some of the best,” Krig replied, voice muffled from behind the mask.

She felt something tighten on her genitalia, and turned back to Sango, inhaling deeply.

“Okay, I'm about to do it. Inhale deeply,” Krig commanded, and somewhere far away, she heard Gin's voice say the same.

She inhaled, and a pinprick stabbed briefly in her sex before settling into a faint pressure. Sango twitched and they both gripped eachother's hands tighter, eyes wide open.

“All done, jewlery's in,” Krig announced as he stepped back.

That was it?

“I feel so silly,” Sango giggled breathlessly. “I thought it was going to be way worse.”

“Here, take a look,” Krig offered, a mirror in his hands. Looking down between her legs, she saw two small silver balls glinting between the lips of her slit.

It looked like someone else's sex, not her own. Startled by the difference, she nodded dumbly, then looked up at Sesshoumaru, who was smiling down at her, eyes filled with approval.

“I like it,” Sango announced, eyes on the mirror between her legs. “What about you Kagome?”

She nodded shyly, knowing her face burned hot enough to pass for a small sun.

“I've got the aftercare instructions printed out for you, and I'll give it to the guys. Sesshoumaru said you guys live in Tokyo. We'll be in Europe in a couple of weeks for a convention, but I have a friend in Tokyo I trust that you can go to for your jewelry change, his card is stapled to the aftercare sheet. I'll give him a heads up and he'll give you my discount.”

“Why do we need to go to someone else for a jewelry change?” Kagome murmured, pulling her clothing back on.

“Cleanliness for one, most of those so called piercing shops aren't worth stepping into,” Krig huffed. “And the kind of jewelry that's best for your piercing is hard to find without ordering online. I trained under Daifu-sama, and I trust him implicitly.”

She listened with half an ear as she pulled her clothing on. Nothing felt different, she could hardly feel the jewelry at all. If anything there was a light pressure, but that was it. Sango too looked surprised as she pulled her jeans up. The men spoke in quiet tones and when she heard farewells exchanged, she murmured a quiet thank you to both men, noticing that they were holding hands.

Krig nodded, smiling as he and Gin went ahead and saw them out, telling them they were more than welcome to visit again. When they were back in the car, both she and Sango delegated to the back seat, she didn't stop her friend from resting her head on her shoulder.

“Are you ladies hungry?” Miroku asked.

Her stomach growled, and Sango's seemingly responded in kind. Both of them blushed and laughed, snuggling into one another as they listened to Miroku and Sesshoumaru bat around ideas for dinner back home. Neither of them suggested anything public.

It was a sad realization that they were going back to the apartments because she and Sesshoumaru could not go out and eat in public like a normal couple, and she resisted the urge to fiddle with a ring she hadn't worn in several days. Even when they were in Sango and Miroku's apartment and talking cheerily over dinner she couldn't quite shake the sense of melancholy that began bearing down on her.

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A/N: What's this? Only eight pages and no lemony content? I know. I know. You all want to shoot me. I'm sorry. I promise I do have the next chapter written, and it will be out in a timely manner this time. My behavior has been deplorable. Punish me? Erm....I mean, review. Yes. Reviews are lovely.


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